The Rebel
by RoswellianMisha
Summary: Sequel to The Message. Someone has finally come to take them home. But is this man friend or foe? Worst, he says Khivar has found a way to kill Max, but the only reason the Rebellion would risk itself is if they can prove Zan has survived. With the Unit closing in, and plans long established crumbling, surviving will depend on rightly deciding who to trust.
1. Friend or Foe

**Welcome back!**

**Title:** The Rebel – Book 3 in "The Messengers" Trilogy  
**Disclaimer:** Gees, would I love to own them?! But nope, you all know who the owners are, and certainly that doesn't include me. I'm just writing for fun :) But to make it official: The characters of "Roswell" belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, WB, and UPN. They are not mine and no infringement is intended.  
**Category:** Sequel to The Offer and The Message - CC/All – Post Graduation  
**Rating: **YTEEN, for very occasional language

**Summary**: Someone has finally come to take them home. But is this man friend or foe? Are his intentions loyal to Zan or to himself? Those questions aside, this unlikely ally is bringing terrible news: Khivar has found a way to kill Max, but the only reason the Rebellion would risk itself is if they can prove Zan -and not Max- is the one waiting here on Earth.

With the Unit closing in, and plans long established crumbling, rightly deciding who to trust is going to be the only way for all of them to survive the next 12 hours.

**AN:** This story would never be what it is without the help of my betas and the shaping thoughts of many of my readers! You guys rock! Especial thanks to **Michelle in LA **for her red pen and name calling XD

This is a sequel to _The Offer _and _The Message_**_. _**It won't make much sense without having read them first. They are both on my Profile.

* * *

** - The Rebel -**

**Part 1 : Friend or Foe  
November 2****nd****, 2011 - New York  
**

* * *

**1 : Max**

The time was 4:00pm.

As the elevator doors closed, Max had a feeling of _déjà vu_. He'd been in this exact same elevator ten years ago, one cold November afternoon, with Tess. He'd been so nervous and so afraid about the upcoming Summit, while she had taken it all in stride. He'd been lightheaded then, and he was starting to get lightheaded now, the memory strong enough to transcend time and space. Things had changed, though. So much.

Now he also carried the memories of one Antarian king, though he felt far from royal. If the Summit were happening today, it wouldn't be such a nerve-wracking experience and _no one_ would be able to accuse him of not knowing who he was: Max Evans, proud husband, son, and earthling. Gone was the uncertainty of those days, when he'd been afraid of his alien self and what it represented; when he'd been terrified he would wake up one day and Max Evans would be gone.

The one thing that had truly, fundamentally changed was that he was no longer afraid to lead. Zan had been a natural-born leader, _literally._ Not only had he been raised to lead an entire planet, he'd been bio-engineered to be _good_ at it. Max still didn't _like_ it, and would gladly give up leading any given day, he just didn't shy away from it, didn't feel guilty about giving orders any more. Not that he got to issue orders on a daily basis, of course, he was hardly a king in this time and place.

Michael still thought he was too passive. Max still thought Michael was too impulsive. _And that's why we're gonna make it,_ Max told himself, the elevator movement making him slightly dizzy. They both valued their differences as assets now, and things didn't get as heated as when they were kids. There were more compromises, more angles considered, and there was so much more at risk.

Someone coughed, a couple of girls giggled, and other, more important matters intruded in the here and now. This meeting with Dave was not really sitting well with him. Dave was never impulsive about things, and he was _extremely_ careful about not interrupting Max's and Liz's time together. That he would text him for a meeting in the middle of the day, right at the beginning of his vacation, could only mean trouble.

_And Dave _knows_ about those messages Michael intercepted from space. He knows someone's coming for us _soon._ Is that what this is about?_

There were few other options. There was the ever present threat of the Special Unit, that Max knew was still out there. Ray kept them updated whenever they were in the US, and although news of the Unit was always an unwelcome reminder that they needed Dave to come and go, Max was confident that any threat from them was something Dave could handle in a heartbeat. So the Unit was hopefully out of the picture.

There was the possibility that something had happened to his parents. Family matters were always a sensitive topic, and something Dave would get to know before they did. Through the years they had managed to see their parents twice in person, and often through the computer. But, if this meeting were about his parents, Isabel would have been invited as well.

_Someone's coming for us._ Michael's words echoed in his mind. That certainly qualified as a _major_ problem, and he could see why Dave would want to reason with him first before bringing Michael and Isabel into the picture. _But why here?_

The Empire State Building was anything but private. What would Dave want in a place like this, out in the open? Was he trying to manipulate Max into not reacting? But if Dave were afraid of him, he wouldn't have chosen to speak in person. He would have been safely tucked away at the other side of the world while talking through the network.

_What is it?_ he wondered for the hundredth time as the elevator reached its destination, up, up, _up_ above ground. At the back of his mind, he had a nagging feeling that someone was watching him. People spoke in languages he did not recognize, and readied their cameras for the big tour. Their excitement would have been contagious had he not been so worried about what he was going to talk about with their "jailor", as Maria was so fond of calling Dave.

Max was the last one to get out of the claustrophobic box, his mind feeling crowded with so many thoughts. Although he had only been here once, everything looked exactly as he remembered it. Couples were mingling, kids were shouting, everyone's eyes were on the horizon. It certainly was a breathtaking view of the city, if one cared enough to enjoy it.

Max's honey eyes looked around, searching for Dave.

Somewhere, out there, Liz was scared out of her mind. He felt her sudden panic like a jolt of electricity, the impact on his senses almost making him lose his balance. His fists closed, his heart skipped a beat. Trapped at the top of the building, there was nothing he could do but swallow hard, and concentrate on her. For the first time since he could remember, it felt as if there were a wall between them. A wall made of fog that let only the vaguest of feelings through.

_Liz…?_ he whispered in his mind, unsure of what this meant. Instinctively, his body turned towards her direction, and while his mind tried to figure out what was happening to her, he was already planning to take the next elevator down, to hell with Dave's urgent meeting.

His plan was shot down a second after that. A green flash blinded him for a moment, and thinking it an annoying camera flash, he ignored it. But the next thing he registered was the lack of chattering sounds. And along with this realization came the fact that he was alone.

Everyone had disappeared.

For one instant he was sure he was strangely caught between his life as Max and a flash from Zan. Except it didn't quite feel like that. It actually felt like… _Nicolas._ The thought froze him in place. This felt exactly like the time Nicolas had come to Roswell and everyone had disappeared. Everyone but those who were aliens, with a few exceptions.

His heart beating in his ears, Max flattened himself to the wall. He was about twenty feet from the elevator, and some thirty from the emergency stairs. He had to get out of this place, and neither exit was going to be fast or risk free. If flight was not an option, there was always fight… At the very least, he would make Ray proud.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tall man standing, looking at the city as if he were a tourist himself. His dark coat hid much of his body, perfectly concealing any weapons. He turned then, looking directly at Max, his face impassive. Long, dark hair snaked around him as the wind blew, loosely tied at the base of his neck. He didn't look older than Max, and he definitely didn't look surprised by the absence of people.

There was a sense of danger about him, of someone who was not used to being out in the open. He definitely didn't look like Nicolas, but who was to say a Skin couldn't change looks? Meeting up with that traitor was not a pleasant thought. On Antar, Rath had loathed him, and Zan had not been far off, a sentiment Max shared with them both in this life.

Energy tingled in his fingertips as Max assessed the situation. The man in front of him walked slowly towards him, giving Max plenty of time to make a decision. _Fight or flight, Max?_ Ray's words echoed from hours of training and playing possible scenarios. Max swallowed, hard.

Whoever this person was, he was certainly skilled with Antarian technology. There was a very unsettling possibility that this man had a device like Brody's that would disable his powers, and his powers were all he had for his defense.

_The elevator or the stairs?_

The man stopped some twelve feet away. The wind blew again, chilly, the sound of the city non-existent at this height. They both stared at each other for seconds that felt like eternity. Something odd was going on, but Max was barely aware of it. He couldn't properly concentrate, couldn't make the decision of how to get out of there, couldn't stop questions from forming and going unanswered. If this man was not the enemy, then why go through all the trouble of this? What was happening to Liz? Where was Dave?

"Greetings, Your Highness," the stranger finally spoke, slightly inclining his head.

A diplomat? A messenger? A soldier? A rebel?

_Friend or foe?_

"Greetings…," Max answered, still cautious, still needing to understand so many things and clear his head for once. "Although it is clear to me you know who I am, I am not familiar with you or your reasons for this setting." It was easy to summon up Zan's words and tone. Much easier than Max would have thought. Or liked.

The man's eyes flashed with emotion, excitement, maybe? And then it was gone. They weren't cold, no. Rather like Ray's, vigilant, and a little like Maria's, passionate.

"I am Van," he replied, standing still and very focused on him. "I am the commander of the Rebellion."

_This is too soon,_ Max fleetingly thought, before his mind was stunned by the man's next words.

"And I am your brother."

* * *

**2 : Liz**

"I don't have bodyguards," Liz whispered, the shapeshifter sitting in front of her reading the menu in the exact same way Max did, from the back to the front. It was unnerving to see him, knowing he wasn't really her husband.

"You do when you are out of the compound. It was required as a condition to let the King go out of the safety of Dave's properties. And by extension, you."

_Michael was right,_ Liz momentarily realized, _we are always being watched._

"I don't understand, why are you here now? Why are you suddenly in front of me, looking like Max? What do you want?"

He smiled Max's slow smile as he leaned forward and quietly said, "All will be explained."

She felt her heart racing, stuck between anger and fear. "Well you'd better start explaining fast, before—" she stopped in mid sentence. _Before you get shot._ Her mouth opened in shock for an instant, as the vision played in her mind once more: Max getting shot at the French restaurant. Except it hadn't been her Max, it couldn't have been. Instead, somewhere, nearby, someone was getting ready right at this moment to shoot this Not-Max, and she was lucky enough to have a front-row seat.

She was torn. If the shapeshifter in front of her was lying, if he was an enemy sent to kidnap her or worse, then whoever was going to shoot was actually doing her a favor. But if the alien in front of her was actually on her side, she had to warn him. But how could she know? Every second that went by meant her vision was closer to coming true.

"Tell me what's going on right now, or I swear you'll regret it. Where's Max?"

Now she was angry. Her fingers tingled with energy that was growing by the second. She had to make a decision in the next couple of minutes, either to trust him or to flee, and neither one of them felt right. The most important thing right now was to know where Max was. Why hadn't he called her?

"He's in a meeting, as I told you," Not-Max said, "An important one, with our leader."

"Khivar?" she whispered. Not-Max's eyes went as cold as she felt.

"We live to see him die," he said in a harsh tone. No amount of good acting could convey the hatred she saw there, twisting Max's eyes. For a second, they were completely black. "We are the Rebellion," he said a moment later, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. Max's hazel eyes came back. "Van is our leader, and for the longest time, he's been trying to make things right, to fight for what is true."

"You're here to take Max back," she whispered, her heart aching. She didn't need anyone spelling it out for her to understand that. "Where is he? Where's Max?" her voice cracked at the last word. She didn't care.

"There are a lot of things going on today and plans had to be changed. Dave is missing, your human hunters are getting closer, and Khivar is on the move. We couldn't wait any longer."

"Wait, what?"

Down the street, a car's horn startled Liz, reminding her they were not safe out here. "We need to move," she said, standing up so fast her chair fell down. Not-Max stared at her, standing up as well. "Someone's going to shoot you," she whispered, taking him by the arm. His eyes immediately went up, to the closest building, his hand taking hers and pulling her in the other direction. An instant later, a bullet ricocheted two inches from where his free hand had been.

She didn't have time to register that she'd prevented her vision coming true by a mere ten seconds. She didn't even register the face of their waitress as they almost collided with her in an attempt to flee enemy fire. All she felt was this man's iron grip on her wrist, her frantic heart beating wildly in her chest, and Max's connection crumbling in her mind.

* * *

**3 : Kyle **

_And you thought Michael was going to ruin our vacation…_ Kyle thought with resignation as his plans for a relaxing week in the Big Apple and proposing to the girl of his dreams went up in smoke. While Jake was talking with Ray on the only functioning cell phone of the group, Maria, Jesse, Isabel and himself were pooling their rooms' resources. Mainly, they had raided the mini-fridges and were dividing the contents into individual supplies. Chances were they might need to flee, and Ray was telling Jake where would be the safest place to go.

Michael had left not even ten minutes ago in search of Liz, while they were trying to digest the fact that Dave was missing and Max could very well be in danger. Isabel's hands shook as she deposited what she'd found in her room, while Maria was eerily silent, unzipping their smallest backpacks.

With the tension going up, Kyle was getting snaps of everyone's thoughts, especially Jake's. Mostly, the doctor was concerned about Dave's whereabouts. They had planned for this, for the eventuality that one of Dave's deals would go awry or something would happen to him. Jake kept going to some image in a hotel room, one stormy night, not so long ago. As much as Kyle wanted to shut him out, his mind-reading was nothing if not unpredictable. _I just need to calm down,_ he coached himself, dividing Snickers, Milky Ways and bottles of water.

Jake hung up. Kyle's mind was flooded with images of maps.

"Okay, there's a warehouse on the outskirts of the city," Jake started to say, getting a map of New York City out, spreading it over the coffee table where everyone could see. "Here. It's a safe spot, and it's unused for now. It's not listed in the network, so whoever brought it down this morning would be unaware of it. Jesse and Isabel will take a cab to this location…"

More maps kept intruding into Kyle's mind, this time more like blueprints. White lines over a black background started to get in his head, forming rooms, air vents, electrical systems.

"Maria and Michael will take this subway route, and then change lines here…"

Instead of blueprints, Kyle's mind images changed to the lobby, the halls, the elevators' locations. He turned to look at Jake, trying to understand why he was so focused on the hotel's structure when they were about to flee the place, when his mind flashed on a gun. A professional looking Glock, the FBI standard issue handgun.

"Kyle, you and Liz will—"

Kyle cursed. "They are already here!"

* * *

**4 : Michael**

There was one thing in Michael's mind and one thing only: Get to Max.

The entire day was becoming a nightmare. From the network being down, to someone taking Max and Liz in different directions, to the fact that Dave was missing.

_Missing!_

His mind was being pulled in a thousand different directions. His top priority was to get the group together, and since Liz was at the corner, that's where he intended to go first. Get her safely to the hotel, go get Max at the Empire State. He didn't want to think one bit about the fact that it would take him half an hour before he could be standing at the roof of that building, and that was being wildly optimistic.

The lobby was a blur as he ran through it, recent memories of Max getting that message in the park and of Jake telling them Dave was missing merging into one another. He'd been right beside Max when the trap had been set and none of them had been the wiser.

He should call the Empire State and send a bomb threat. That would empty the building fast and hopefully would keep Max safe. Who could be skillful enough to take down Dave's network _and_ send a message to Max with Dave's name on it?

Worse, who would _know_ the connection between both men?

He made it to the street, but before he could take one step to his right, Maria's emotions collided with his into a storm of pure fear. It felt like a physical blow, strong enough to make him gasp. It cut all his plans of going out and redirected him to the lobby once more, his legs weighing a ton. He couldn't move fast enough. Whatever had scared Maria so badly could not be good. She was reaching for him with the same fear that he was extending/sending towards her, their connection almost to the frying point.

He was halfway through the lobby when a man he hadn't noticed grabbed him by the arm and effortlessly changed his course from the elevators to the emergency exit sign. The man was not fearful in the least, and considering the state of mind Michael was in, he was certainly risking his life. Instinct almost took over, _almost._ The only thing that spared the man's life right there were four simple words: "General, there's a situation."

He had almost blasted the man the minute he had made physical contact with him, and the tingling in his fingertips was proof of how close he had been. But those words had such an impact on the echoes of his memory, that for an instant, Michael was stunned, frozen to the spot.

This man was from _before_.

A second later, he registered the stranger was trying to make him walk, but Michael was having none of it. With the shock wearing off, his concentration went back to Maria.

"If they see you, they'll shoot you, too," the older man said, wary eyes darting over his shoulder to the elevators, then around the lobby check-in area. Applying more force to Michael's arm, he felt Michael finally move.

"_Who's_ already been shot?" he sternly asked, walking with half a mind to ditch this man and find his wife. He just needed to find out as much as he could before that. Maria's safety depended on that.

"Liz, but she escaped," the man rushed, "unhurt. She's with one of my men, safe," he added. They passed the Exit sign and kept going. _To the kitchens, _Michael realized, one of Ray's favorite escape routes. _I beg to differ,_ he grimly thought, changing directions once more, this time for the stairs. It was his turn to do the steering.

Pulling the man to the stair door, Michael looked him in the eye. "You're telling me what's going on and you have exactly three minutes before I find my wife and we disappear," he stated, not letting this stranger dictate his moves any more. In they went a second after, the fire stairs seemingly empty all the way up.

"Your wife wasn't supposed to be here," the man started, climbing ahead of Michael's watchful eyes. "None of the humans were." _No, they weren't, yet here we are,_ Michael somberly thought, the joy of having Maria two days before he had expected turning bitter in his mouth. So much for a surprise. "We were going to make contact tonight."

"The Rebellion." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. We've been planning this move for a long time. When, where, and how… We had a meeting yesterday with Dave. He said there were details he wanted to discuss with Zan first. Then he would introduce us to him and to you."

Pieces started to fall into place in Michael's mental puzzle. About the deal, about the messages, about Dave and the Rebellion in contact all this time. He would think about it later, _much_ later, when he had Maria safely in his arms, and Max where he could see him.

"You don't know where Dave is either, do you?" he asked aloud, not all the pieces accounted for.

"He brought the network down. We took it as a signal to us that things were not going according to plan. Emergency contingencies were activated."

_Of course, _Dave_ would know how to bring his own network down._ It hadn't been an attack at all. It had been done on purpose.

They were passing the third floor now. He had left Maria not ten minutes ago on the eighth.

"Contingencies to take the king to secure ground," Michael said. Rath's strongest memories were always about protecting his king, and Michael needed to know Max was okay just as strongly.

"We still need to make sure he's the king befo—""

"It's him," Michael cut him, a big number 5 painted in white as they kept going up. If they didn't believe Max was Zan, they would immediately withdraw their help. "Tell me it's you who called Max," he asked with clenched teeth.

"He's with us," the rebel answered, slightly slowing down. Michael pushed him up, thanking any gods out there that at least Max was not walking into a trap.

"What's the current situation?" Michael's eyes kept looking ahead, Maria's fear not as strong now. She was moving, he just didn't know where. _Damn it!_

"The Unit is about to close in. They have just failed at ambushing Liz and a decoy for Zan. We didn't realize they already had your location here until—"

Fire alarms started to sound. First on the higher floors, and then on the one they were just passing, going to the floors below. In less than a minute, the entire hotel was one huge fire alarm.

_Isabel. _

Somehow, they knew. That must have been why Maria had panicked and now was on the move. This was the distraction they needed to bypass the Unit. Relieved beyond words, Michael grabbed his willing follower, this time heading down the stairs. With no directions and no phones, he couldn't afford missing Maria and the others.

* * *

**5 : Dave**

"You kill Max Evans, you kill us all," Dave said deadly serious. Across the metal table, McKay rolled his eyes.

"You always were one for the dramatics," the older man said dismissively, thoroughly enjoying seeing Dave squirm.

"I don't care what you think about me. If your men kill that man, that man's army will destroy the Earth." He had to make them understand. He _had to._ If McKay thought he could take Max without repercussions… At the very least, Dave hoped Van would never hear about this. Van was not the kind of man one could cross.

"You traitor," McKay hissed, his cold, blue eyes accusing him. "Sell your planet… for what? What are they offering you?"

"Ten years ago I stumbled upon those kids, and two years later I was face to face with the leader of their Rebellion. Do you know what he wanted? He wanted to try the entire planet for crimes committed against his king, crimes your goddamned Special Unit committed! You don't understand what kind of power is behind that threat."

For one glorious instant, McKay actually considered his words. And then the instant was gone.

"You disgust me," McKay said, standing up. "I'll tell you when we have that alien trash in our hands."

Dave was left alone, with nothing to keep him company but the sound of his racing heartbeat.


	2. Deal

**Part 2 : Deal  
June, 2002 – Somewhere in New Mexico  
**

* * *

**1 : Dave**

The night was cold, and the hour was late. Few times had Dave found himself in the middle of nowhere without having the upper hand. He didn't like the feeling. Jake would have told him it served him right.

Beside him, Kal Langley was looking straight ahead, saying nothing. Dave was not a chatty guy by nature, but the silence was starting to get on even his nerves. No one knew where he was, he hardly knew that himself, and if things went wrong tonight, he would die alone. He'd never given much thought to that, never much importance. But for this moment in time, he really wished he had told Jake what was going on.

_I found a bunch of aliens running around. I found one in LA, cornered him in a long flight to Japan. It totally backfired on me. Can you imagine that, Jake? _

Kal Langley had been quite hard to find, and then only because Max had led them to him in his trip to LA. He had not been intimidated in the slightest when Dave had casually remarked on his talent to pass as a human being. If anything, Langley had been amused.

_We are 30,000 feet over nothing but ocean,_ Langley had said with a deadly smile.  
_Do you honestly believe this is the right place to get cornered?_

Dave had believed it was the safest place to find out what was going on. He was right, but he hadn't counted on Langley's disregard for human life. Kal would have killed him that day had he not been preoccupied with other affairs. Mainly the fact that the Rebellion had contacted him. That Dave had been the answer to his problems had been just a happy coincidence.

"I don't know this Van character," the shapeshifter said, uneasy, "but if Khivar is losing ground on Antar, it can mean disaster for us here."

For an exile and a former member of the Royal Guard, Kal oddly had no wish to go back home.

"You'll get to go back, and the Earth would be forgotten. I don't think that's disaster for you."

"By all means, _you_ explain to the Rebellion leader how it is that Max is being hunted down and has already been tortured once," Kal said in a flat tone. "These people have been fighting for the past sixty years out of loyalty to a king who is long dead. They'll have no love for this planet when they find out about Max's life. And trust me, they will find out."

For all Kal had said, Max Evans was supposed to be the clone of Zan, last true ruler of the planet Antar. But Max had no desire to return, and no memory of Zan. So here were two unlikely allies: the Protector who had given up and thought there really was no king lurking behind that kid's eyes; and the Wanderer, whose curiosity had entangled him in a desperate struggle he had never even known existed.

Kal's main problem now was how to protect Max to the Rebels' satisfaction. Dave's main problem was how to convince this kid from Roswell, New Mexico, that he had to become Earth's Ambassador. Max was the only one with the political power to stop the rebels from seeking retribution—but only if their leader believed he was, indeed, their true king.

"_Max is no king. He doesn't want it, he doesn't remember a thing," _Kal had said, once they had sat down to discuss business.

Antar's king had a peculiar trait: his word was a command. At least to the shapeshifters, and that was a very good reason for Kal here to not want Max close by. The thing was, Kal had not really neglected his duties. He _had_ kept tabs on Antar's former ruler, and he was convinced that Max was no Zan, and that Antar was better left with the belief that Zan might be alive, at least until Khivar died or the Rebellion won.

Something shimmered in the night air, a few feet above the ground. Langley tensed beside him, and Dave's stomach did a very interesting somersault. Kal knew how to be human. The people who were coming through that portal did not.

A shape formed in front of them. Tall and slim. Humanoid. A second later, he took human form. He was disoriented for a second, and very, _very_ alert the next. He looked at Langley first, a cold look of disappointment; and then at Dave, a cold look of disgust. They were clearly not welcome, and yet here they were. In his hand, the newcomer held a small, black device. A moment later, a blue wave of light shot outward in a circular motion. Dave didn't feel a thing, but Langley gasped.

Nodding once to himself, the man raised his hand and a red light pulsed back through the shimmering air. He moved three steps back. _The all-clear,_ Dave thought.

A whole minute went by without anything happening. A whole minute of that man's piercing eyes boring into them. So much like human eyes, with the same readable emotions, a face hardened by war. Dave had met many rebels in his life, so he knew the look—the weariness, and the mistrust. Antarians, it seemed, were no different than humans when it came to war. They just had more toys to play with.

Langley had told him Antarians didn't look all that different from humans, at least on the outside. That had been the reason to choose Earth, so primitive, and so far away. That they weren't all shapeshifters was a relief, but the fact that their king could command Kal's race at will sounded more like slavery than anything else.

Had Zan been a good king? Or were shapeshifters a larger threat? That Dave could be aiding a monster tyrant was an uncomfortable thought, to say the least.

The portal shimmered again, and slowly, another shape started to form. This one wasn't as tall as the scout, but about as tall as Dave himself. Wind swirled, and for a second, Dave thought it was a woman coming in, long hair fluttering behind the shape's back.

He was wrong. The shape finally formed, and a slender man was standing in front of him. His dark eyes looked into Dave's hazel ones without a word. This man was the leader, and unlike Max, he had no reluctance about taking that role.

"I should kill you on the spot," he said in perfect English, turning to look at Kal. "And the only reason that's not happening is because I need someone who knows the land."

_You already know the language but don't already know the place?_ Dave silently noted. That was a question for another day, and probably for another alien.

"Van," Kal said without skipping a beat. "I had only heard rumors of you. I take it the Rebellion is doing well."

"Where is Zan?" Van asked, his eyes glancing around. This was a man used to expecting ambushes.

"Not ready," Langley answered. "He barely knows he's Zan at all. He needs time for that to happen."

Van's eyes settled once more on Langley's face. He nodded twice to himself, "We were warned it might not have been… a success. But the seal is with him, so Zan _is_ in there, sleeping."

The last word was not said with the same conviction. The truth was, as Langley had told Dave, that no one was sure if Zan's memories had survived. What a dilemma, Dave thought, for this young Max. A person's self was made by experiences, _memories._ To have two sets of memories, two sets of personalities, could not be an easy thing to live with.

"He needs to be watched," Van said at length.

"He needs to be guided," Langley added.

"He needs to be protected," Dave spoke for the first time. Van's eyes now centered on him.

"He's hunted by your kind like an animal. He almost died at the hands of humans already. Why should I trust you?"

"Because you need someone who knows the land," Dave simply answered.

* * *

**2 : Ray**

**June, 2002 – The outskirts of Roswell**

"They did what?" Ray said over the phone, his plans for the night forgotten.

"We don't know where they are," the man on the other side of the phone said in a rush.

It was supposed to be a calm night. They were supposed to be _graduating_, for crying out loud! The most dangerous thing those kids could do was get drunk. Only last week, _last week,_ they had been involved in blowing up a US Army base. What did these kids do for fun on the weekends?

"Find them!" Ray roared. He hung up, and stared at the phone. Dave was unreachable, and Ray still had time to find six kids in a town the size of Roswell.

_So does the Unit…_ The thought was an unwelcome one. He could not believe the Special Unit had mounted an attack on civilians. A deadly attack, according to his men in the field. If the Unit found them before Ray's team did, they were going to be killed.

The irony of the situation was not lost on him: he had to let them escape for them to be safe. It meant it was up to Ray to clear the road for them. The Unit would regroup, roadblocks would be ordered. For six teens on the run, there were few places they could hide, and after the search and destroy mission of last week, they wouldn't attempt to meet at any of their houses. Or at least Ray hoped not.

He quickly took the map of Roswell from the wall, and spread it over his desk. Somewhere, those kids were plotting. And somewhere, probably close by, the Unit was getting ready to ambush them. What would they do? Who would help them out?

_Valenti._ He was the only adult in the know, plus he knew the area. He might no longer have authority in the police department, but Jim Valenti's knowledge of how things worked would be perfect right now. They were going to ask for his help. All Ray had to do was keep an eye on Jim, and redirect the Unit in the opposite direction.

Tomorrow, he would find them on the road somewhere. And once he did, he would call Dave, tell him the scare the kids had given him, and they would laugh. _Imagine that,_ Ray muttered to himself, _they are half my age and have double my wits._

Unknown to him at that moment, it would take more than seven months to find them.


	3. Fugitives

**Part 3 : Fugitives  
November 2****nd****, 2011 – New York**

* * *

**1 : Liz**

They had gone for the subway, but their goal wasn't to get into one of the cars. Instead, panting, they were sitting on one of the benches, trying to not look suspicious. Not-Max hadn't wanted to go any further, but to Liz's mind, this place meant a maze of tunnels and trains where _she_ could escape. She had decided to trust this shapeshifter not even ten minutes ago—and in the process she'd saved his life—but that didn't mean she had to stick to that decision for the rest of hers.

Her phone was dead, no connectivity whatsoever. Staring at it, she saw out of the corner of her eye that Not-Max was slightly leaning, as if he were losing his balance.

"Wait, Ma—Max," she faltered, at a loss for what to call him, "What's wrong with you? Did they shoot you? Are you bleeding?" she whispered, trying to see if there was any blood. He was wearing a black sweater, so it wasn't obvious. If the policemen patrolling the subway got wind of this, he would be sent to a hospital, with an escort. And that was a situation she was not looking forward to.

"They weren't shooting with bullets," he said, slightly slurring.

"What? What else would they be shooting with?"

In her vision, it had been clear: Max was shot, and he was falling down. She had assumed there had been blood, but now that she was trying to picture it…

"Drugs," he said, his eyes closing of their own accord. "Not enough to take me down with just one dose… I don't think…" he said as an afterthought.

"We need to contact someone. Max already knows I'm in trouble, but we are closer to the hotel than we are to him. The others will arrive there soon. What about you? Do you have someone we can contact?"

Not-Max actually leaned forward a little too far. Liz caught him before he could hit the floor. He opened his eyes with a start. He was fighting the drug-induced sleep with all he had, but it might not be enough. She looked around. No one seemed to be paying any attention.

"They'll… contact us… here," he slowly said, shutting his eyes tightly for a second in a vain attempt to chase away the sleep.

"Okay, okay…" Liz said, her eyes on the welcoming open doors of the subway in front of her. "Do—do you have a name?" she asked instead. She could always catch the next train. Having a source of information without the will to withhold anything was a chance that would not come again.

"Jade," he said after a few seconds.

"Jade, what… what exactly is going on? Why did you take Max's face?" _And could you please, please change it? _she silently pleaded.

"Van needs to… talk to him alone… see if… see if his brother is there…"

_Whose brother?_

"So Max was coming to see me, and he got snatched…" she said more to herself than for his benefit. Jade shook his head.

"I had to… make sure…"

"Jade?" she worriedly asked. Once he fell asleep, did she leave him to his luck here and run, or… Wherever Max was, he was not getting any closer. That meant he was not coming to get her, even if he _had _to know by this point she was in serious trouble. She didn't even want to think about the possibility that Max was a prisoner. She hadn't really gotten any bad feelings from him, but…

_Michael… he must know what's going on. _Remembering Jesse had told her not even an hour ago that Isabel was on her way to the hotel, Liz made her decision. She would leave Jade here, run to the hotel, find Isabel, maybe get Michael too, and come back. Jade knew what was going on, they needed him.

She lowered Jade onto his back and slowly rose to her feet, when he grabbed her wrist—with an iron grip.

"It's not safe," he murmured, blinking fast. "Please…" he whispered. He looked so much like Max, it broke Liz's heart for a second.

"Jade, we need help," she whispered back. His grip didn't get any looser.

"Once it's safe… they'll give… the all clear…" he was breathing with a little difficulty, but looked more alert than just a minute ago.

"Listen, if we have the Unit on our backs, we need to keep moving…" she tried to explain. It had been 8 years and ten months since the last time she'd been chased by the Special Unit, and these were not exactly welcome memories. For the first time in a long time she actually was thankful for Dave's offer. He _had_ given her some degree of peace of mind.

Jade shook his head again. "We're safer here… They'll find us."

_That's not the problem,_ Liz thought as she looked around, her wrist firmly detained inside Jade's hand, _the problem is that someone else might find us first…_

Knowing the Unit wouldn't be fooled for long, she made a decision.

"We're leaving," she stated, taking Jade by the arm and forcing him to stand up. He barely put up any resistance, his plan of staying put dissolving, along with his ability to remain awake. It was a small victory when she finally sat him down inside the subway car, the door closing with a hiss.

With no idea where they were going, no functioning phone, and no allies in the city, Liz had a lot of planning to do.

* * *

**2 : Max**

"Zan doesn't have any brothers." The conviction with which Max said those words was not feigned. Max did not have _all_ of Zan's memories, but he had enough. And there was the very convenient little fact that _no one_ had ever mentioned that.

Something flickered in Van's dark eyes. His calm demeanor disappeared for a second, replaced by a moment of doubt.

"Zan wouldn't have known…" he said in a low voice. "I wasn't born for many years after he died, and it was kept secret until recently."

_If that were the case, you would be on the throne right now, or getting closer to it. You wouldn't…_ Max's thoughts trailed off for a moment. _You wouldn't need me._

Van was here to kill him.

"Your Majesty, I'm not here to harm you, or yours," Van said in a calm voice, reading Max's fear like a book. "I am here to warn you. We are here to protect you. And maybe… maybe to take you home." That spark that had been lost when Max had not called himself Zan was back.

It was a bit intimidating to see someone looking at him with such… devotion? Trust?

"What happened to everyone?" Max asked, looking back at the closed elevator's doors. He needed time to sort out what it all meant, and this question was as good as any.

"I used an interdimensional shifter, it allows the privacy we need, without anyone on the outside being the wiser. I assure you, no one has been harmed."

_It's the same device Nicholas used in Roswell,_ Max understood, seeing how everyone on that elevator had just disappeared the minute he set foot on the Observation Deck. But in Roswell Liz, Kyle, Jim and Maria had entered afterwards. This dimensional shield was not letting anyone come through. Anyone who was not part alien, at least.

"You say you've come to warn me. I'm listening," Max said. At the back of his mind, he was trying to reconnect with Liz. _It must be this dimensional field,_ he rationalized.

"We're not sure," Van said, walking to his left, towards the city view. Max followed. "We've learned through our spies that Khivar has ordered your assassination. Details are still confusing, but we know it'll happen in the next twelve hours. Since your own Guard here was inadequate, we came to protect you. The best men the Rebellion has to offer. Zan, we will not let that man put his hands on you again."

His voice was fierce enough for Max to not correct his name. If Khivar was serious about wanting him off, it didn't matter if Max thought of himself as Zan or Max. Yet Van would care a great deal. Zan was worth mobilizing resources, worth fighting for. Max was not.

A slight wave of dizziness passed over him. He dissimulated it by placing a hand over one of the telescopes to steady himself. It would not do to look weak or at a disadvantage in front of a potential enemy.

"I don't blame you for doubting the truth about all this," Van was saying, sounding as if he were very far off for a moment, and then his eyes focused on Max's face. "When Khivar took your throne, when he killed you, plans to bring the Royal Four here were hastily made, and over the years, adjusted. Yet by the time four human decades had passed, no one believed you were still alive. With no heir to the throne…"

Max couldn't reach Liz at all, and much less Michael or Isabel. He was getting incredibly sleepy, too. Cold air swirled through the deserted roof, helping him stay awake.

"… and Khivar had destroyed all viable genetic material, so it was the decision of our Queen, our mother, to propose…"

The sound was off again. That this was caused by the dimensional shifter was now an unlikely answer. Van wouldn't have risked something hurting Zan, would he?

He turned to look at his self-professed brother as a second wave of sleepiness hit him.

"Zan? Are you okay?"

It was the last thing he heard on the Empire State Building.

* * *

**3 : Michael**

He'd felt Max's connection dimming, but it wasn't until he reached the lobby that Michael realized the connection was gone. He was hurrying along to get outside the hotel, the fire alarm shrilling its way into everyone's ears, but Michael was barely aware that he was moving.

He was torn between finding Maria and finding Max, and he didn't like his loyalties being torn in two. The thought vanished as a blond girl passed him by. Not his wife, but Maria wouldn't be far.

People were pooling into the street, as many guests as curious onlookers, sirens sounding in the distance. On the eighth floor, dark smoke was lazily going up from a couple of windows. As Ray had told them once, _where there's smoke, there's fire… Fire alarms are convincing up to a point. Add smoke to the mix, and the confusion will last long enough for you to be gone. _

Out they went, leaving behind the hotel, the smoke, and the people. And any semblance of some happy vacation time.

_Where are you?!_ Michael desperately thought, his eyes searching for one petite blonde. It was useless, a voice at the back of his head said. She would be gone by now, and was probably not a blond anymore.

"General, we have to _go,_" his self-proclaimed rebel said through clenched teeth, obviously thinking searching for Maria was a waste of time. She was not the target. Michael was.

Max was, too.

He changed tactics, from trying to get a hold of Maria's emotions or Max's consciousness to Isabel's. _Her_ direction was crystal clear, coming from his left, completely opposite to where Liz's bistro was. With agents so close by, he'd have to trust that Liz was safe at least, and get some much needed answers from the stranger by his side.

"This way," Michael said, walking through more onlookers and without turning to see if the man was following him. "There's something wrong with M—Zan," Michael corrected at the last second. The rebel frowned at that.

"Wrong?"

Isabel was getting further ahead. Maybe one block away. Michael craned his neck to see if he could catch a glimpse of her or Jesse, both tall enough to be seen from a distance. All he got were crowds of tourists and New Yorkers walking by.

"Yes, _wrong._ I can't sense Max, and the only reason that could be is if he's unconscious. Not sleeping, not far, _unconscious._" Now that he was saying it out loud, he felt his gut clenched. He started walking faster, almost running. "I have to find Isabel before we lose her," he barely explained, second-guessing his connection to his almost-sister.

The man cursed, and it took Michael a moment to realize it had been in Antarian. That he could understand it gave him chills, but he decided now was not the time to think that one through.

Firemen and policemen arrived, the fire truck turning the corner right beside Michael. Before he could cross the street, the rebel abruptly stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"What the hell—"

"Unit men…" the man whispered, a black sedan passing at that moment. Michael's skin tingled with the need to blast it. He almost did it, too, until he saw that his companion was getting suspiciously close to a parked red Lexus.

In the distance, Isabel's connection moved fast. _Too _fast. She was either in the subway or riding a very speedy taxi. _Please tell me you're taking Maria with you,_ he thought with a hole relentlessly growing in his chest. She didn't exactly send comforting waves, but neither she nor his wife was panicking. They were on the run, but they weren't being chased.

Yet.

The red Lexus came to life at the exact moment Michael opened the passenger's door.

"You'd better take me to Max before I kill someone."


	4. Paperwork

**Part 4 : Paperwork**

* * *

**1 : Dave  
February, 2003 - Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean**

"—and the people from the office in Berlin are asking when they are going to see the blueprints for the stealth aircraft you promised them three months ago. That finishes our list for today, but you should notice that—"

Susseth's long list of to-do's was one of those things that Dave's mind heard, but never really listened to. They were on the private jet towards Germany's capital city, and the redhead was efficiently bringing him up to date. He'd told her he had ten days of "vacation", while in reality he'd just ended one week of interviews with six teens who could hold the fate of the world in their hands. Ten days where his plan had hung in the balance. But finally, _finally,_ Max had accepted.

"—because the research team is lacking the source material that would endure the—"

Langley had not replied to his message that they had stayed, which didn't surprise Dave. Langley did things on his time and no one else's. Van, on the other hand, would soon receive news of this, and he would want to know every single detail there was to know about Antar's mighty king.

_Well, Van, I can tell you Max is still a kid who needs a lot of guiding, but at least he's still alive…_

He wondered how life had treated an Antarian prince. Had Zan been spoiled? Been a whiny little brat? The fact that there was a Rebellion in his name should say something about the man Zan had become, the king who had ruled, however briefly. On the other hand, Max was not yet a man but he'd seen far more things than anyone his age should.

"—but the Network Keepers said it was just a glitch. It looked as if the accountant hadn't made the transactions the way the logs were displaying but the second attempt was a verified hacker attack that—"

"Wait, what?" This time, he did pay attention. Susseth's long eyelashes contrasted perfectly with her white skin, and she would have looked beautiful had she not been staring at him in annoyance. "The Network Keepers. I sent you a report about it twice every day. Did you even care about your inbox, at all?"

_No, I cared about saving the world from the hands of one pissed off alien rebel. _He made a motion with his hand for her to speed things up. This was not a new argument on her part. She just thought life was too short to waste it on nonsense like vacation time. Even if his had been _fake_ vacation time.

She glared at him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay… There have been several money transactions from six different main accounts in the past week alone. Keepers have been busy in Europe tracking the money. They got most of it back, and are working on getting it all right—"

"Where?" Dave interrupted her. He didn't care about the money. He cared about the breach.

"Sweden, and one in London," she said, typing and clicking on her laptop to get him the most accurate data. "The money was lost for two hours, thirty seven minutes. The latest hack was five hours ago."

"And they still haven't gotten it back?" he asked, surprised. No one had ever managed that feat, let alone for that long. Susseth shook her head. She didn't know much about computers and codes, but she knew Dave ran a tight ship. This was extremely unusual news.

This hacker was getting bolder _and_ better. Either the kid who'd tried to breach Level Six codes had a friend, or he'd been busy while Dave had been in the air. _Or both,_ he grimly thought. He had too many things going on in his mind to be chasing some glorified programmer around. Now was _so_ _not_ the time.

"Call Ray. Tell him to get half the Keepers around the world chasing this lead. Tell him whoever finds that money will get it as a bonus on their next paycheck."

Susseth gasped. "That's fifteen million, three hundred seventy-five dollars and fifty-one cents…" she whispered, pronouncing each number carefully, maybe afraid he would miss the fact of how much money he was talking about.

"Then it's going to be an interesting competition, don't you think?"

She stared at him as if he were nuts, a common thing by now after eleven years of working together. She didn't even blink. "Susseth, are you breathing?" he asked a second later. She shook her head. And then sighed.

"If you had been reading my reports, you wouldn't be making these rash decisions," she muttered as she typed Dave's instructions. He internally rolled his eyes. Money was just a means to an end for him, just as it was that to her, but Dave had a thousand ideas that would give him profit in months if he ever felt the need to use them. Susseth didn't. She had ideas on how to spend it on projects with no returns. She saw to the needs of a few. Dave saw to the needs of the world. Or at least he liked to think so. Liked to believe his parents would think so, too.

* * *

**2 : Jake  
February, 2003 - US Compound**

"I'm telling you, Jake, Michael turned all the bullets into ashes just to see me squirm…" Ray was saying with an uncharacteristic fear in his eyes. Dave had left the compound the week before, and Sunday meant the kids—along with Jake and Ray—had the day free.

"At least now you know he can turn them into ash," Jake patiently said, writing his own comments and notes for the week to come.

"Yeah, tell me about it… Are you sure this is going to be the right thing to do?" Ray asked, still not liking the idea of spending so much time with their hybrid friends.

"They need to develop the fine points of their skills, and that won't happen if all they do is blow stuff up. With these exercises, they both practice and get a useful lesson in survival. _That_ will motivate them to do the practice."

"It's not like I don't see your point, I'm just nervous they are going to use me to blow off steam. They think they can't touch you, but no one said anything about me."

Jake stopped typing, and smiled at Ray. "You need to show them what you can do. Dave already did with his ambush. I somehow already did just by wearing a lab coat, which is already creepy in and of itself, but I'm not going there. Why don't you give them a live demostration?" Jake suggested.

"With the telekinesis I don't possess?" Ray asked, clearly not understanding where Jake was going.

"Do you remember how it was that you impressed Dave?"

"Yeah, at a bar fight in Dublin… Are you suggesting I get them drunk?"

"No," he chuckled, "show them your prowess. All they've heard from you is theory. Bring a couple of them to the floor and earn their respect. Liz, Maria, and Kyle are going to start taking self-defense lessons, anyway. Show Michael, Max and Isabel that by the time you're done with the human part of their group, they won't have to be so worried about them."

Ray thought about it for a moment. "If Maria so much as breaks a nail, Michael will kill me…" he murmured. Ray was no coward, but he was no idiot either.

"We'll figure it out, Ray. They are scared kids who've just made one of the biggest decisions of their lives. They are bound to be a tight bundle of energy and distrust."

Ray wearily looked at him. "Do we figure that out _before_ or _after_ they toast me?"

"Preferably before…" Jake said, starting typing again. He would postpone any type of physical samples for at least a month, but without purpose, activities, goals, boredom and fear would consume their vulnerable minds.

"So, what have you planned so far?" Ray asked, finally beginning to lose that fear and gain a bit interest.

"I'm not sure yet. I want to do something with images… Maybe with a tennis ball…"

* * *

**3 : Max  
March, 2003 - US Compound **

"Do you see anything yet?" Max quietly asked, while his eyes focused so hard on the image he had in front of him, that it seemed it could start to smoke any minute now.

"A house?" Liz asked from the other side of the couch in their tiny living room. It was the first time they were trying to see if they could pass an image along their connection. Max was staring at an image, and Liz was trying to see it in her mind.

Max shook his head. They'd been going at it for the past twenty minutes, and he was starting to feel self-conscious. He wasn't sure if he should be concentrating on letting her in, or if he had to try to get inside Liz's mind, and try to put the image there.

For the past month, Michael, Isabel and himself had started doing Jake's odd experiments, and things were certainly interesting around the doctor, and more than a little weird.

"Something green?" she asked, eyes closed.

"No," he said, contemplating the red umbrella he was staring at. Maybe he should try to think just in a color. Or a form. Maybe starting with a thing had been too much. That's what Jake was trying to do, break something big into small chunks, and work on it step by step. Like a puzzle, just starting with random pieces.

She sighed in frustration a minute afterwards. "You said it worked with Isabel, right?" she tentatively asked, biting her lower lip.

"We were holding hands, so that's different," he soothed her, leaving the small stack of images aside. "It felt more like… a blurry picture. Sort of an impression, I guess."

"Is it weird?" Liz asked, sitting next to him now that they weren't breaking scientific ground, "I mean, to discover something new like this?"

Max blushed slightly. Talking about his powers, even with Liz, always made him feel awkward. "Jake was trying to understand how flashes work. But we weren't getting any, so he said, 'maybe if we start with something small…' I honestly thought it wasn't going to work. I mean, we were trying to get a flash. How we jumped to this, is anyone's guess. But… it's a bit scary, you know? Knowing there are still things we don't know about ourselves, and that no one has a clue either…"

Liz nodded in understanding. None of them had said anything to Jake about how they'd been able to actually communicate an image between them, but Jake had known something was going on.

"I keep wondering," she said, taking his hand in hers, "if I'll ever get another vision."

"Liz…" he whispered, feeling an old guilt rising in his throat.

"No, it's not that I don't understand that you had to take them away, because I do. It's just," she shrugged, "something I wonder about. How would I live with that? Not knowing is scary, but I don't think knowing would have been… better," she ended, frowning. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, life, _present_ life, would lose all its meaning, always looking into the future, always trying to fix things... It saved our lives, don't get me wrong, I'm—I'm incredibly thankful I had it, and—"

"I wish you hadn't had to go through it…" he whispered before she had to feel guilty or apologize for being "normal" again. He hugged her to his chest. "And I know you've always said that you're happy with how things are, but what I wonder is… if your life had stayed normal—"

"Boring," she corrected him, chuckling.

"Yes, and boring, maybe you would have had more opportunities in life. A place with real windows, and not having to deal with any of this. With powers, or deals, or your husband trying to see if there's any way you can picture the same thing I'm picturing."

Liz smiled at that. This was an old argument, Max knew, where she would say everything was fine, and he would still feel guilty about having dragged her into this without her ever having much choice. There was silence for a whole minute as he contemplated life without Liz Parker as his wife.

"I would have died at 16, Max." The statement shattered his view of a happy Liz in a happy life. He wanted to argue the point, but she didn't let him. "Every time you doubt this—this life, the way it is, the things we deal with—don't think about all the things that you took from me. Think that none of this would have happened if you hadn't risked your life that day. Don't you think I find it a little bit worth it? To be alive?"

She hugged him, and he hugged her back. Even after all this time, he still needed to hear some variation of the same answer: I chose you_. Despite everything and anything, I chose you_. At times like this, there was no Zan, and no powers, or hunters or deals. Just Liz, and the fact that she'd stayed.

* * *

**4 : Michael  
April, 2003 – The Compound**

"A red umbrella," Isabel said after thirty seconds had passed. Max nodded, and went to the next image. The three of them were taking a day in one of the huts, taking some time off. Jake had had to do something or other, and instead of going to watch Kyle, Maria and Liz practicing with Ray, they had chosen to keep practicing, away from prying eyes.

"A blue sweater," she said, faster this time.

On the other side of the living room, Michael was tossing a tennis ball against the wall. It bounced off the wall, then the floor, and back to Michael's hand. And in the process, Michael had changed its color three times. In two weeks, he'd gone from being able to change the color once, to three times in a single throw. He was making progress, and he liked it.

"You're getting good at this," Max commented to Isabel, turning the next image while she happily shuffled her half of the stack. They were taking turns trying to see the image the other one had.

"It's just coming clearer," she said, a smile on her face. She was really getting into this, and Michael couldn't be prouder. Embracing this side of them so fully had always been something they had both feared and wanted in equal parts to the point they had just been stuck. Now there were no excuses.

"Michael, do you want to try it?" Max asked. Michael threw the ball once more, this time to Max.

"I changed it 27 times in a minute. See if you can do it better," Michael challenged. Max simply smiled and, taking Michael's place by the couch, started to get the hang of it.

"Who would have thought such simple things could help us improve so much?" Max said, the ball going from green to purple in a space of a blink.

"If this is your way of saying how great Jake is, save it," Michael said, his mood getting dark. That Max was trusting Jake far more than any of them ever should was no secret. That Michael was against it was no secret either.

Max's ball became black. It seemed they had been arguing over just about anything when it came to Jake or Dave.

"Don't," Isabel said in a fierce tone. "We've always been afraid of trying things on our own, that's a fact," she pointedly said to Michael, "I'm not happy some guy in a lab has more ideas about how to go about our powers than we do," she continued, "but I'll take any help I can get."

Michael opened his mouth to protest, but she beat him to it. "We want this, Michael. Not for Jake's sake, but our own. We have to decide how much we should show him, though…"

"We can't be dragging our feet all the time, he'll know something's up," Max pointed out, the ball forgotten in his hand. Michael sighed in frustration. Leave it to Max to want to be the straight A student.

"We need to compromise," Isabel pointed out. "Not so fast, but not so slow."

"He doesn't know what to expect," Michael argued back, "We can go as slow as we want."

"But if we just suddenly do something too advanced…" Isabel said with uncertainty.

"Maybe we shouldn't hold back just yet," Max said, thoughtful. "We _are_ just beginners, after all. Once we are more practiced then we'll know how to hold back," he pointed out, the black tennis ball turning back to green.

"I don't like him knowing what we can do…" Michael said in a somber tone, feeling watched all over again. Reluctantly, he grabbed the images Max had been using a moment before, while Isabel turned the next one on her lap, getting ready to send Michael what she was seeing.

"None of us like to feel so exposed," Max agreed in a quiet tone, placing a hand on Michael's shoulder. An image formed instantly in Michael's mind. A second after, Max frowned. "A green car," Max said, naming the exact thing Michael had seen. Both men turned to look at Isabel, expectant.

"Yes!" she said, showing them the green car she was holding in her hands. "Max! You weren't even trying!"

The three of them looked at each other in equal parts surprised and excitement. They really were getting better. _And from now on, the sky's the limit,_ Michael thought with a smirk.

* * *

**5 : Jade  
May, 2003 – Antar**

Things were changing fast.

Being a rebel had taught Jade quite a few things, especially how to read a person, a group, and more importantly, the mood in a room. Few had been called to this meeting, as usual, but all eight of them were shifters, a fact that was not lost within the group. He couldn't remember a day when he hadn't felt the oppressive atmosphere that came with secret meetings, no, but there was also a glimmer in Van's eyes today that he had never seen before.

_It's a mission,_ Jade thought with glee. _Finally! Something important enough to have all of us together and Van himself, here! _

Jade had done his share of missions, plenty of small ones and a few medium ones. Shifters were closely followed, and eluding tracking could be a pain. If they were caught aiding the Rebellion, death would not come swiftly.

There were fewer shifters being engineered now, too, a growing point of discord amongst his kin. Khivar did not like shapeshifters, and tolerated them because they were a commodity too valuable to let go. But his campaign against gene manipulation at all costs rang hollow to a race of beings who had been entirely created thanks to that, and who could not reproduce themselves without it. Shifters as a whole remained mostly neutral, waiting to see where the balance would fall. But the few who were aiding the Rebellion, who were aiding Van, had been promised true freedom, away from the tracking system and a life condemned to the military.

_Though the tracking system has already been cracked,_ Jade idly thought as they were waiting for Van's second in command. _We are living proof that we can get away from it. _If the Rebellion hadn't been so close to getting the upper hand, Jade would have escaped eons ago. But a fugitive shifter was alone, hunted like an animal, and killed on the spot if not worse. A _rebel _shifter had the aid of the Rebellion, plus it had a nicer ring to it.

_So_, Jade had decided a few weeks back, _if things don't change soon, I'll take my chances as a fugitive living for a few months free, than staying for the slim hope that _someday_ I'll be free, and die a slave anyway. _

"The mission you're about to be briefed in," Van started without his second in command present, "has two purposes." A hologram came to life, a blue planet lazily rotating. An _alien_ planet, since none of the five sister-planets in Antar's solar system were blue. "You'll familiarize yourselves with the culture in the following months, and those of you who excel at your training will become the Invisible Guard."

Van looked at each of them in turn, all having been stunned at the announcement. The Invisible Guard was not only the highest honor a shifter could earn in his entire life, but it meant Van was entrusting them with the king's location. They would be his bodyguards.

_There hasn't been an Invisible Guard since before I was born,_ Jade thought, swallowing hard. Zan had been the last ruler to honor the tradition, that was no secret, and even to someone like him, a would-be-deserter, the offering seemed astonishing. Jade had heard that those shifters closest to Van had been using the term loosely until Van had forbidden it. It was _that_ important even to their leader.

"Those of you who do not earn one of the four honors will still be sent to this planet and aid the Invisible Guard in whatever task might present itself. I don't have to tell you the monumental importance of the information you're about to hear. If you accept this mission, you won't see Antar for a long time. You won't even leave this place to say good-bye. Is that understood?"

It would later occur to Jade that if any of them had refused, they would have been killed outside their meeting place once they had left. They had already learned too much.

Yet _When do we start?_ was all Jade had been able to think that night.


	5. Tales From Afar

**Part 5 : Tales From Afar  
November 2****nd****, 2011 – New York**

* * *

**1 : Liz**

_What about taking life as it comes? _Topolsky once had suggested when she'd been playing high school guidance counselor a lifetime ago. Liz's harsh _No!_ had been the only answer. Life without plans was chaotic. Running for one's life without a knowing where to go was plain suicidal. _Keep it together, Liz_, she told herself, her inner voice sounding suspiciously like Ray's. If there was someone who could make a plan on the fly, that was her self-defense instructor. And God, did she wish for a little bit of his wisdom right about now.

By her side, Jade's eyes were half closed, but the grip on her wrist belied any idea that he was not alert. He wasn't all there, granted, but he was there enough to make sure she wouldn't go anywhere without him tagging along. _Which suits me just fine_, she thought while taking a deep, calming breath. _Prioritize your moves,_ Ray had instructed her,_ and take it from there.  
_  
_First, escape. Second, find a hiding place. Third, panic about why Max's connection is so low_. It sounded logical enough, even if her hands were trembling at the idea that _something_ had happened to her connection with her husband. Thinking about what that meant was far more terrifying than the Unit, but the Unit was her problem_ now_. Getting to Max was the problem _after_.

"Okay, here's what we have to do," she said out loud, the beginnings of a plan starting to form. "We'll get a bit further, change cars once or twice, and then we'll find a public phone. You wouldn't happen to have a phone, would you?" she asked, hope briefly shining through. Jade shook his head slowly. _So much for shortcuts_, she thought with resignation. "We have to contact Ray," she kept going with her half-constructed plan. "He'll tell us where to go, what's going on. Maybe he'll send someone for us."

Jade shook his head vehemently, as if she were arguing with him that he was not an alien. _Maybe he's hallucinating,_ she thought. Her hand was starting to become numb under his grip on her wrist.

"You don't know who's been compromised," he explained with an effort, "or if the Network has been breached…"

_The Network,_ she thought, remembering her talk with Jade at the Bistro. "Dave. You said Dave was missing. Who has him? What's going on?"

Jade looked ahead. A couple of teenagers with headphones were mindlessly drumming their feet to the rhythm of their unheard songs. A man with a newspaper was further away. A few people passed in front of them, talking in Spanish or something close to it. Some gave them curious looks. A woman frowned. Liz tried to conceal the fact that Jade was holding her hostage by sitting closer to him, her free hand over the one holding her to look like an affectionate gesture. She wondered if she was fooling anyone.

He shook his head twice, and stared at her as if he hadn't realized she'd been there all along.

"They warned us that if something happened to you… Zan wouldn't forgive us…"

_Who?_ Liz thought, the grip on her wrist finally loosing.

"I wasn't even born when Zan died… and I had… I had little hope for this Zan," Jade said, his eyes closing again. "I volunt—volunt_eered _to come… I thought… I would see firsthand what kind—kind of king we were fighting for."

"Jade?" she tentatively asked. "Jade?" she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. He turned to her then, his eyes completely focused on her.

"Do you know… how he looks at you? When you're not looking at him?" Jade asked. It was too bizarre to see this stranger with Max's face speaking about such things.

"Jade, we need to—"

"Six years is a long time… to watch from the shadows," he continued, looking far more alert now than he'd been five minutes ago, "I was so incredibly angry when I was told I was not going to be part of Zan's Invisible Guard… Six years," he said again with almost longing, the memory of all he'd wanted and all he'd seen making him look older. "And then I realized," he whispered, getting closer to her, "that this was my last chance."

His eyes slightly glazed over again, and Liz was reminded of a drunken Max, one cold night ages ago.

"What—what chance?" she whispered back, getting closer to him as well.

"I never did it for the rebels, you know?" he said, moving back, his voice low but not a whisper any more. The subway stopped, more people coming in. "I did it for Van. And he's doing it for Zan." The doors hissed shut a minute after.

"Jade, maybe we should talk about this somewhere else," she suggested, trying to get a look at what station was coming next.

"I thought Van would make a great leader _if_ he wasn't killed first, and those chances were astronomical. You don't know how it is, Liz. Khivar is ruthless, and everyone is afraid. Everyone but Van. And I wanted that, to feel so sure of myself and what I believe in…"

_Van, the Rebels' leader, the guy who's meeting with Max, _ Liz's mind catalogued in a moment. _The man I need to kick for putting us in this position, _she thought grimly.

"So you came to this—this _place_ because you were following Van?" she asked, the word _planet_ almost escaping her mouth.

"Following Van's dream," Jade corrected, his eyes lazily closing again. He looked so tired, like Max used to do when he'd been pushing his limits regarding his powers.

"You came here for Zan," Liz said, frowning. At least Van was not trying to kill her husband, for once.

"I came here for Zan," Jade repeated, the glimmer of a smile on his face. "And to live free, I guess, even if it was in this alien world," he murmured, making Liz lean in to him further. "Even if I was not part of his Invisible Guard, but yours."

"Invisible Guard? Like bodyguards, right?" She thought she already knew, but the worst mistake about gathering information, she'd learned, was to assume and not corroborate.

"They follow him everywhere he goes that's not private space. All four of them, circling him, watching for _anything_ that could damage Van's dream…"

_How many shapeshifters have been following us all this time?_

"Are there any others here?" Liz's eyes went to every single face on the car, all eyes everywhere but on her.

"No… just me," Jade answered, taking a deep breath. He rested his head backwards, closing his eyes.

"Jade," she said, pulling her hand, knowing he would react at the thought of losing his grip on her. He did. "Jade, what exactly do you want? Why were you at the Bistro?"

"I wanted to know," he slowly replied, as if that explained everything. She frowned. Jade sighed. "He trained us personally, you know? Van. Every detail. He trusted us to protect him, until he could come…"

"You didn't know that Max is not Zan?" Liz asked, glancing at the teens who were still listening to music in front of her.

It was Jade's turn to frown. "There's never been a question about who he is," he said. "And when they assigned me to you, I realized I was in the unique position to learn who you were… who you are." His eyes were as intense as Max's when he was deadly serious about something. And then he shook his head, losing the effect. He was clearly fighting the drug effects, and was being only half-successful.

Liz slowly nodded, debating if she wanted to know who Jade thought she was. Technically, she was his queen, she guessed. But not-so-technically, she was also as alien to him as he was to her. That he'd been following her for the past six years without her knowing gave her the creeps. Every single cellphone conversation done on a public space, every girl-talk at a restaurant with Maria, every intimate moment on a night out with Max, Jade—and apparently four other Jade-like bodyguards—had been there. They had never been alone. _What exactly do you know about me?_

"So, that thing at the Bistro? Did you learn what you wanted to know?"

He looked at her again, his eyes clear once more.

"Do you know how he looks at you? When you're not looking at him?" he repeated his earlier question.

"What?" she asked, frowning, and truth to be told, blushing as well. She didn't need to _see_ how Max looked at her, she felt it all the time.

"Here I was, so angry I'd been robbed of my one opportunity to learn who Zan was, who he was _now,_ in this lifetime… That first time I guarded you, I felt like such an idiot not to have seen what was in front of me."

"Jade, slow down. You're not making any sense. You didn't want to guard me? What does that have to do with how Max looks at me?"

"I learned who Zan is through you. I thought I had lost my only opportunity, but instead I learned about Antar's future king in a way no one else has. But I have to know if you know…"

"Jade," she said with the same seriousness, "he's the reason I'm alive right now." Her heart contracted at saying the same words she'd once told to the future version of Max. "If there was anything you learned through me about Max, I hope it's what a great man he is."

"No one who loves like he loves you… can be anything but," he answered earnestly. "But…" Jade paused, and in the instant between one heartbeat and the next, there was a spark on her connection, a distant humming. Her heart skipped a beat. _Max!_

The car stopped. Not losing a second, Liz stood up, and was almost yanked back by Jade for her to sit down.

"Max is this way," she fiercely said, pulling Jade to his feet. He was heavier than she'd like, but at least he didn't fight her on getting out. Her connection was barely there, and she was not going to lose one second tracking Max down.

She didn't hear Jade's whispered words: "But you don't know how much he fears to tell you the truth."

* * *

**2 : Van**

There were many things in Van's life that were disturbing, some even a shade darker than he would like to admit. But nothing was brighter than his hope for the future.

And his future was collapsing right in front of him.

Zan had suddenly fainted not a minute before, and Van had watched him descend in slow motion, his own heartbeat sounding too loud in his ears as time lost meaning. He'd thought Zan was dead.

Now, having broken his fall, Van was sitting on the floor of the empty Observation Deck, holding Zan on his lap with a dread he'd never felt before. Not in the heat of battle, not in the shadows of tunnels, not even in the face of losing the civil war against Khivar.

Zan _could not_ die, period.

Rationally, Van knew two very harsh truths: that there was no guarantee that the hybrid he held in his hands had any significant memory of Zan; and that even if Zan was there and he died, the Rebellion was too close to winning to let Zan's death stop it. No, there was no stopping it now, but Van could not envision a future without his brother, and without a vision, a leader had nothing to hold on to.

There was no Invisible Guard inside the time-shifting bubble. What Van and Zan had to discuss was for no one's ears but their own. Now that didn't matter.

"Zan," he almost whispered, unsure what to do. He'd tended hundreds of wounded men in the last years, he was certainly not shy of blood and guts and screaming men. _Think, Van. _Zan was breathing evenly, his eyes curiously moving beneath his eyelids. _Dreaming,_ he'd been told, something Antarians did not do. _Is it good or bad? _He didn't know, but his hands moved to Zan's head, looking for blood. He found none, but a small entry point would be hard to locate without removing Zan's clothes. Had he been shot? Stabbed? Had this place been compromised?

_That's impossible,_ he thought, dark eyes moving to the four corners of their position. The shifting device was programmed to allow only him and Zan in—that a shifter might have gotten past it was unlikely. _But not really impossible,_ Van grimly accepted. If they were under attack, he needed reinforcements. The moment he turned off the time-shifting bubble, Zan's Invisible Guard would aid him, but they would have to deal with hundreds of humans as well.

"Zan?" he said a little bit louder, feeling utterly out of place to raise his voice at the legend that had guided his entire life. "Zan, I really need you to wake up."

He felt eight years old, begging his mother to tell him one more story about his older brother's reign.

For the first time in a long time, he felt young. And helpless.

Zan's eyes fluttered for a moment, and then stilled. _Is that good or bad?_ He asked himself again. Zan's life on this planet, in this _body_ had been unavoidable, and ultimately desirable for all the advantages it gave him, but there was no way to deny that through those veins ran alien blood, and Van had too little knowledge about the human body to be of much help.

His strategic mind started to weigh options and risks. Stay here and wait for Zan to wake up on his own—that was more wishful thinking than actual logic. Leave Zan in the bubble and get help—that would leave him unprotected, and it would take time. If he got worse… the thought of Zan dying alone did something unpleasant to his stomach. Dropping the bubble would gain him the Guards, and myriad obstacles. _Get him out of this building, into the car, and to headquarters._

He looked at his brother's still face. _What did Khivar do to you?_ he thought darkly. That man had taken everything from him, from his childhood to his parents, to his planet's future. He was _not_ going to rob him of his only remaining family. A cold rage gave him strength as he lifted Zan by the shoulders, and half dragged, half carried him to a corner.

A moment later, a flash of green signaled the end of the shifting bubble. Humans walking, smiling, and taking photographs were everywhere Van's cautious eyes swept over. The only four people not mingling, not smiling, and decidedly looking grim were shifters, and boy, were they a welcome sight.

* * *

**3 : Maria**

"Okay, he said we had to take the subway and Isabel and Jesse the taxi," Kyle was saying as he practically dragged Maria down to the subway station.

_No, he said you and Liz take the subway, while he never finished saying what Michael and I had to do,_ she fleetingly thought as her only goal for the moment was not get herself killed by some undercover Unit agent. Every man, every woman who crossed her path was a suspect. Every person who actually made eye contact with her was an adrenaline-induced heart attack.

The last time she'd run for her life had been so long ago she couldn't even remember it. One way or another, Maria had always been the least interesting prize. She lacked powers, she lacked alien genes, and right at this moment, she was sorely lacking her half-alien husband, too.

Michael had lived with this fear his entire life. It was one of his biggest demons, one that could not really be swept away because it was as real as the subway entrance she was entering. He knew he was always going to be hunted, and had learned long ago to accept it. She thought she'd accepted it as well, except that now that she was faced with this situation, she realized she had been kidding herself all this time. She would never get used to the idea that Michael could be hunted down like an animal.

Ray had taught her well, how to defend herself, how to flee. How to make a plan and act on it. She would _never_ be a burden to Michael's safety, but what good was all that if she didn't even know where Michael was? One minute he'd been with her in an absurdly priced hotel room, and the next they were separated. Had he found Liz? Had they escaped the Unit?

_You better not be in cuffs somewhere, Spaceboy,_ she admonished as Kyle stopped in front of the Metro map. It had been a while since they had been in New York, and usually they weren't headed to shabby, undercover warehouses.

"What do you think happened?" Maria whispered as her eyes followed colored lines. She was pretty good at reading maps and finding her way around big cities, but her mind couldn't concentrate. Every single metro line seemed to be going nowhere.

"They got Dave, did terrible things to him, and he told them where we were," Kyle summarized in one breath. "Okay, let's go," he said, taking her arm with one hand, and with the other pressing his head for one moment.

_This must be hell for you,_ she thought.

"Yeah, so the faster we get out of danger, the sooner I'll be able to shut everyone out."

_It's so creepy when you do that!_

He just smiled at her.

* * *

**4 : Jake**

"Ray, what the hell is going on?" Jake asked, walking into a crowd of French tourists, all eagerly talking about the Statue of Liberty. _How ironic, freedom is exactly what is on my mind, too._

"Jake? Didn't Rochelle just drop you off at the hotel?"

"You don't—you don't know? They raided the hotel, just two minutes ago! They are everywhere!"

"Calm down, Jake. Who is _they_, and is everyone all right?"

_That's anyone's guess._

"I think the Unit, but I'm not entirely sure they are the only ones."

"Your friends at the government _and_ the Unit on the same day? That's no coincidence."

It was hard to believe that four hours ago, Jake had been cornered at JFK, waiting for Ray to come up with a plan to get him out of there. Now New York City was his labyrinth to get lost in.

"Talk to me, Jake. What happened?"

"I met with Michael, Isabel, Jesse, Maria and Kyle at the hotel. They didn't know why the Network was down, but _someone_ texted both Max and Liz to be at different locations at 4pm. Michael went to find Liz, but before any of them came back, all hell broke loose. We had to run out of the building, and I'm not sure that we're not being followed."

There was a tense pause at the other side of the phone. The French tourists he was following laughed and took pictures. He wished he were on vacation as well, he could use a good laugh right about now.

"You haven't found Dave yet, have you?" Jake whispered, his heart constricting.

"The Network being down is a catastrophic event in and of itself. We have most of it back by this point, but New York is still down. Are they running with you?"

"No. We scattered into groups. We are heading to an unmarked location."

"So Michael, Liz and Max are missing… Wait—I'm getting the reports of a fire at the hotel."

"That would be Isabel's doing. You trained them well."

"Yeah, I'll congratulate myself when they're all safe and sound. I'm sending Rochelle for you."

"You have to send someone for Max first. He was summoned, by someone claiming to be Dave, to the _Empire State Building_. Someone must have hacked into the Network."

"That's impossible," Ray answered immediately.

"As much as Dave wants us to believe how great his Network is, I'm guessing it was the same someone who brought it down," Jake said, amused at Ray's negative.

"Jake, Dave himself brought the Network down. There's no freaking way anyone was able to get into it. There was no Network to hack into."

Jake stopped in his tracks. Behind him, someone almost collided with his back, and cursed him in a not so elegant way. He didn't hear him. A dozen different things had just clicked together in his mind, like pieces of an invisible puzzle.

"They're here," he barely whispered.

"What? Who?"

"The aliens. The Rebels. They are the only reason Dave would bring the Network down, and the only ones capable of reaching Max and Liz through their phones."

"Wait, wait, wait! Are you seriously suggesting a bunch of aliens landed on us on the exact same day that both the Unit and your past watchdogs did?"

"No, Ray. I'm saying they landed on us now _precisely_ because all three of them are connected. Somehow, Dave managed to tie a knot around all of us…"

He had forgotten how much Dave's betrayal had truly hurt not even a week ago. He had even forgiven him for the most part. But this whole mess, with Ray and the kids and himself in the dark was all courtesy of his best friend.

_If they haven't killed you, I will,_ he thought darkly.

"Listen, Ray. I know I'm not making sense, but Dave is in league with those aliens. He was expecting them. I don't know who has him, or why I was being followed, but chances are, both the Unit and the Alpha project are working together."

Silence met him on the other side of the phone. The French tourists were moving on, and Jake discreetly followed them. He was still wearing the mismatched clothes Rochelle had given him at the airport, earning a few glances from the people around him. He couldn't care less.

"Are the kids in any danger from these aliens?" Ray slowly asked, and Jake had to smile. Just as he had grown protective of the hybrids, Ray had grown protective of their human partners. They all still called them kids, despite the fact that they were almost 30.

"Maybe. They came to do some sort of test, about Max's memories of his former life. I'm not sure what happens if he passes or not. Dave didn't tell me that much. I don't think he even knew that himself, he was pretty sure Max was going to fail."

"That makes me feel so much better," Ray murmured, the sound of rapid typing on a keyboard coming through the phone.

"I think he's wrong."

"Are you hiding things from me, too?" Ray asked, his voice heavy with suspicion and accusation. Jake sighed.

"No, not really. Did you send Rochelle for Max?"

"No, not really," Ray answered back in a decidedly cold manner. Then he sighed. "I don't know what we'll find waiting for Max there, so I'm going there myself. Michael and Liz will get somewhere safe and call. That's the protocol. You find the closest Starbucks and wait for Rochelle to call you. We'll figure this out piece by piece, and get the kids back."

The closest Starbucks was actually half a block away.

"Ray," Jake said before his friend would hang up, "What about Dave?"

"I'm working on it," was all he said.

* * *

**5 : Jesse**

Beside him, Isabel was slightly trembling. The only reason he could tell was because her hand was gripping his forearm to almost a painful point while she tried to look normal for the benefit of the taxi driver. He hated seeing his wife like this, a messy tangle of nerves.

_Not that I'm faring any better._

It was as if the past six years of peace and quiet had been wiped out of time itself. He was back to her graduation night, when she had resolutely left him by the side of the road. He was back in the two years that followed, when he had been running from every shadow, trying to find her and avoid capture himself. Worse, he was back to the day he'd seen her shot, almost dying of a 113 degree fever.

He was in hell.

"Everything's going to be all right," he whispered, their taxi driver honking as if there were no tomorrow.

"I can hardly feel my brother, and Michael is… going in the opposite direction. The Unit is back, Dave's missing… I—I don't know what to _do_," she whispered, a tear falling down her cheek. She immediately wiped it away.

"We'll do what we were trained to do, right?" he said, with a tentative smile. He could hardly claim he'd been trained to do any sort of physical escape. He'd spent his time with Susseth, learning the ropes of Dave's empire, and looking for ways for the whole gang to quietly disappear one of these days.

"Ray will say 'I told you so'," she said, her grip loosening a bit on his forearm. She sighed, gaining her composure back. "We get away from the danger, we find a secure place, we contact Ray," she said in order, her mental list being checked. They were getting out of danger, going to a designated safe house Jake had pointed out to them. All that was left was to call Ray once they were there.

_It sounds so easy when you put it like that,_ Jesse thought to himself. He knew the only way to escape was to keep a cool head, approach things logically and practically. But inside, his heart was beating a million beats per minute. His anxiety spiked as Isabel stilled beside him, her hazel eyes turning to look at him too seriously for his liking.

"Jesse, I have to tell you something," she said in a quiet voice, her eyes filling with tears for a moment, before she blinked them away.

"Shh… I know we're in serious trouble, but we'll get through it," he said, soothing her hand with his free one, his eyes going to her golden wedding band. He'd spent two years holding that ring in his hand in the middle of the night, wondering if she was okay, if she had moved on.

"No, is not about this. Well, it's _partly_ about this, but I don't want you to think I'm telling you now _because_ of this, because I was already on my way to tell you and—"

"Hey, hey. Look at me. I trust you, okay? I _love_ you. Whatever it is, you don't have to be nervous about it."

But she _was_ nervous. He could feel it through their connection, this thing that had been slowly eating at her all day long. Isabel was no stranger to fretting, and usually Jesse just gave her space. But this… this was different.

"Michael intercepted a message… between Dave and… Antar," she started, her voice getting fainter, her face paler. He felt himself going cold.

"_Antar?_" he whispered back, his hand stopping his soothing movement on hers. "He's been working with Khivar all this time?"

"We don't know. Max thinks Dave might just be monitoring communications. We don't really know who is sending what—here, or to Antar. We don't know what the messages have been about."

"So everything that's happening is because of this?"

The taxi abruptly stopped as another car narrowly missed them in the intersection. The taxi driver swore in something that sounded like Arabic, though Jesse wasn't too sure. It had been a while since he'd heard the language.

"Maybe. All we know is that someone is going to come for us soon."

"How soon?"

"I… I don't know. But I have something to tell you, and it might—"

Sirens interrupted her. Turning to look behind them, a couple of patrols were coming, the traffic parting to give them way.

_They're coming for us,_ the thought was automatic, his hand going to the door handle. He had started to move towards it, when the patrols crossed one block behind them. He hadn't even realized sweat had broken out on his forehead.

They both sighed in relief.

"You were saying?" he weakly asked, his eyes glued to the corner.

"That it might be better if I tell you somewhere more private," she answered, her hand gripping his once more.

* * *

**6 : Michael**

The rebel couldn't drive fast enough.

The _Empire State Building_ was barely visible through the skyscrapers in the distance, the setting sun reflecting on a dozen of them. _Hang on, Max._

Just like Isabel, he could barely get a hold of his friend, but at least there was _something_ to detect. Ten minutes ago, there had been nothing. Still, it was as if Max were sleeping or drugged, and neither of those options sounded good. The only silver lining was that Michael now knew the exact direction where his friend was, and for now, he didn't seem to be moving any further.

"General, are you _sure_ something's wrong with Zan?" the man behind the wheel asked, his eyes pinned on the car in front, his knuckles going white.

_General_. It had been a lifetime ago since anyone had called him that, and Michael wasn't sure how to feel about that. Here was a man who would obey his decisions without a second thought, but only if Rath proved himself to still be here. Michael didn't want to find out.

"Why do you think I'm wrong?" he asked, his eyes scanning the streets, his senses alert to a frying point. Somewhere, out there, Maria was also running, he just couldn't tell where. _Please, be safe._

"I…" he started, for a moment turning to look at Michael, "I don't mean any disrespect… but if Zan is with Van, and if something's wrong with Zan, then Van might be in danger too. I'm just worried, that's all."

A tense silence filled the car for a minute, both men worried about their friends.

"Do you have a name?" Michael finally asked. If they were going to be working together for the foreseeable future, better start getting their information straight.

"Luke," the rebel said after a moment. "It's the closest sounding name, I guess," he muttered, stopping at a red light.

"This Van, he's your leader," Michael stated, turning to look at his companion. "What does he want?"

"It's… complicated."

Michael narrowed his eyes, his fingers tingling.

"We received information about ten hours ago that Khivar has ordered Zan killed. We don't know who, or how this is going to happen. Not even where. We only know it's going to be in the next 12 hours or less. That's why we had to move so hastily. Plans were already in motion, but…" he trailed off.

"The space signal. You were going to come soon, that's what it meant."

"How did you find out—"

"That's not important. The Unit hasn't come near us in over eight years. Why did they suddenly find us?"

"We don't know. _Nothing_ is going according to plan. We think the Unit got Dave, but we haven't been able to trace him. They caught sight of Jade when he was talking to Liz at the bistro. Once they were under attack, I came to find you."

"So _you_ sent those messages to get them out of the hotel?" the accusation in Michael's voice couldn't be missed. Things were finally falling in place to explain this day. Dave must have known he was going to be caught by the Unit, so he'd disabled the Network. This Van had probably feared Max would be caught too, so he'd lured him to the safest place he could reasonably secure on a few hours' notice. That still left Dave missing, Liz under fire, and Max cut off from Michael's help.

"Van won't let anyone touch Zan. There's no safer place than at his side," Luke tried to convince Michael. _Have you ever been by _my _side?_ Michael somberly thought. He didn't care who this Van thought he was, he didn't know Max. There was no way he could invest as much in his care as Michael would.

"Just get me there," was all Michael dared to say before he blew something up.

* * *

**7 : Max**

He was moving.

Max's first instinct was to lie still, get all the sensory information he could, and play dead for a little while.

He was on his side, with no handcuffs, no headache, and a vague recollection that he'd been dreaming strange dreams. Beyond that, he got a hazy memory about going to the _Empire State Building._ His powers seemed to be intact, though he still felt as if he had a fog in his mind. He was also on the backseat of a car that was slowly going around and around. _A parking garage,_ he deduced, a moment later recovering the last minutes of his waking mind: the green light, the other alien. Van.

"Are you feeling better?" the words were said in a low voice, heavy with concern. There was no point in playing dumb, Max knew. He didn't know what Van's powers were, or even if he had powers, but he was not going to play games with someone as dangerous as the Rebels' leader was.

Slowly, Max opened his eyes. The interior of the car was darkened, the seats leathered, and for a moment Max thought he was in a limo. It took him a second to realize it was a much smaller car, even if the seats faced each other. Sitting right in front of him, Van regarded him with a calm expression, his eyes the only thing betraying his anxiety.

Carefully, Max scouted the car's molecular structure, targeting the weakest joints in his mind. The bigger the car, the more time consuming, but Ray had given them a tip or two about what to search first. If all else failed, disabling the car could become a well-placed diversion.

"What happened?" Max asked a couple of seconds later, gaining a sitting position himself. The windows were tinted, making the underground parking lot outside look menacing. Separated by an equally tinted glass panel, he could only get a glimpse of the driver and the co-pilot.

"We were talking, and then you fainted. Does this happen often?"

"No. We don't get sick. I… I've been feeling tired all day long, I guess."

"But it's not normal." It wasn't a question. Hardly anything seemed to be a question with him. "We're taking you to our provisional headquarters."

"Why?" Everything in Max's being wanted to bolt through the door and make a run for it.

"Why? Because you fainted for no reason. I've already sent for our best physician. She'll be waiting for us there."

"You won't take me anywhere."

They locked eyes, and for a moment, Max felt every bit in control as Zan would have been in his place. Zan gave orders and expected them to be followed. Van, on the other hand, was not used to being ordered around. Very slowly, Van leaned towards him, and whispered.

"Khivar _will_ attack you, brother, and he will kill you and everyone you love just to prove his point. You need us."

"You're asking me to believe you without real proof," Max said, uneasy. It was one thing that Van thought of him as Zan, and entirely another for Max to act like him for a prolonged time.

Van regarded him for a few seconds, thinking. "The men who are in the front," he said, indicating the men behind him, in the front of the limo, "are shapeshifters, bound to you by the Royal Seal. If you tell them to kill me, they will. How about a compromise?" he asked in a softer tone. "You hear what I have to say while we ride. If you don't like it, you order them to stop the car and let you go."

"You wouldn't stop me?" Max's hands tingled with his nervous energy. He could disable this car in 6,3 seconds if it came to that. But three against one, especially when two of those were shapeshifters, was not going to be an easy win.

"I do not disobey my king's command," Van said, deadly serious.

They were coming out of the underground parking garage, the sun setting low on the horizon. Outside, people walked, talked on their phones, laughed with their friends. All so blissfully ignorant of what was going on between two beings that were not of this Earth.

Finally, Max nodded once. Van did the same.

"I always knew the day I met you would be… difficult," Van started, his eyes appraising him as if he were a long lost friend. "I've known you all my life. From the moment I was born, there was nothing more important than meeting you, ensuring your safe return."

"Why didn't anyone say anything? We've been here for seventy years. _Someone_ could have said something by now…" Max said in a low voice. If he proved Van wrong—and he had little doubt he could—it would only mean Van would have more than a good reason to kill him. He didn't need to be Zan—or Dave—to know that much. He just needed to see how far Van would go.

"We kept it a secret. Even within the Rebellion."

"That's a little convenient," Max said, narrowing his eyes. Van looked away from Max, his eyes growing darker as he watched through the tinted window the outside world.

"Khivar… he wiped us all out," his voice sounded so empty, so devoid of emotion. Van was telling a story that had been told to him, but that he wanted no part of. Briefly closing his eyes, he returned his gaze to Max. "I'm not sure how much you remember, Zan, but once you were dead, you had no direct living heir. No one to get the Seal. He went after all of them… anyone who had even the most remote genetic link to you and the Royal Family. Anyone who could have any claim, even without the Seal… All our genealogical tree was extinct before a month had passed. He proclaimed that genetic engineering was against the laws of nature. In reality he wanted to prevent you, this version of you, from having any claim."

_He wanted to prevent cloning…_ Max realized. "So this has… I mean, other leaders have been cloned before me?"

Van hesitated this time. "Cloning… has a certain stigma in our society. That's why shifters are not really considered people, since they are not really born, they are bioengineered. But we _knew_ it could be done, we just didn't have use for it in a practical sense. A clone is just one more person. But about… I don't know, a hundred human years ago, maybe? They were able to transfer memories successfully. Of course, it was one thing to transfer a handful of thoughts into an AI… and another thing entirely to bring a person back to life."

"They didn't know if it was going to work…" Max whispered. He'd been nothing more than experiment half gone wrong. He wasn't Zan, he didn't think of himself as Zan, but he'd regained many, _many_ memories from his alien donor.

"No, but they _hoped._ Hoped strong enough to form the Rebellion. Hoped enough to risk sending you to a far away, primitive planet, waiting for your return."

There it was, that glimmer in Van's eyes that made Max feel very uncomfortable.

"Where do you come into all of this? You said all our relatives were killed, and that must have included…" A lump formed in his throat, preventing him to say _my mother_. He had few memories of his mother—Isabel was the one who remembered her the most—and all of them were about state affairs. Zan had had a very high respect for his mother's view of things, the way she handled problems. But… there was little love in those memories. Not the way he loved his Earth mother, anyway. Those feelings were lost. Yet now that he was voicing the fact that she was dead, something stirred in his memories. Sorrow.

He _missed_ her.

"No," Van said with a sigh, understanding where Max had been unable to go. "She was smarter than that. Khivar thought her dead, and that suited her just fine. She waited, like the rest of the Rebellion, for word about you."

"But word never came," Max said, knowing this part of the story. "The ship crashed, leaving only two survivors who knew the plan. And then we didn't emerge for another forty years."

Van nodded. "They thought all was lost, that they had to start all over again. They created me, and although we share the same Mother, we do not share the same father. I did not regain the Seal, it wasn't supposed to be that way, but I regained a claim to the throne."

"So you're Antar's true king," Max concluded, but Van was already shaking his head.

"The true king is the one who wields the Seal, and that's you. I'm the backup plan, yes, but there's no greater honor than to be _your_ backup plan."

_How can anyone be so glad about being Plan B?_ Max wondered for a second. "I… I don't deserve your loyalty. I don't even deserve your wish to protect me. Any of you."

"Nonsense. You did great things in the brief time you were king. Changes that needed to be made. Truths that needed to be spoken. We want that, don't you see? We need you. And I'll be damned if I let Khivar's dirty hands get near you again."

Max had to look outside. Anywhere but Van's eyes.

The city was busy. Traffic was the single hardest hardship on anyone's patience, but in Max's case, it meant an escape route. He could disable the car, open the door, and be gone in less than a minute. _It could all be lies,_ he told himself, but Van sounded genuine enough.

A brunette walked past his window, reminding him how much he missed Liz's side of their connection. He tried to sense her again, and all he got was a foggy feeling. He had no idea which direction she was, but he was fairly sure her fear was under control. Still there, but it wasn't racing through her heart. _Where are you?_ He sent into their connection. Nothing came back.

"They said you were not prepared…" Van said after a minute of silence. "We didn't know you had survived until you activated the orbs eleven years ago. I wanted to get on the first spaceship here and take you home," he chuckled at something he didn't really find very amusing. "I was forbidden. So we arranged for the Summit. You were alive, but the other leaders wanted proof. Most of all, they wanted _someone_ who could end this merciless war of ours… I sat down with them, and they said _yes_. _Yes but you can't go. _You see, they couldn't risk Khivar's retaliation. He was not supposed to find out, but he did. It didn't matter, of course. By the time it was all over, you had already said no." Van's voice sounded so hollow when he said that, it made Max feel guilty.

"I had no choice but to say no," Max said in a low voice, feeling responsible for letting this man down. He wasn't Zan, but his own actions as Max, those were entirely his.

Van didn't say anything, lost in some memory far away. "Had you come back that same day, the Rebellion wouldn't have been able to help you. I wanted you home, but I didn't want to watch your execution…" Van trailed off again, and then smiled. A tiny, barely-there, half-smile, but a genuine one.

"You have no idea what news of you did to us. To every single rebel fighting for you. You were _real_. The leaders of four planets confirmed that. You weren't just some myth, some improbability anymore. The day Larek told us he had seen you, that day was the first day in my life I knew we were going to win this war."

Nine years ago, Max had stood by the ruins of the Pod Chamber and had renounced his throne, his kingdom, his responsibilities. He had also renounced to being the Rebellion's hope. In the face of one of his followers—his _brother_ if that could be believed—all of it seemed childish. This man was not going to take no for an answer. This man was not going to see all his dreams go up in a puff of smoke just because Max said so. Max _had_ to convince him he was not Zan, but it seemed the only one he would believe was Zan himself.

"I can't imagine living… on Antar right now," Max whispered, his eyes looking out of the window again. "All my memories of it are… of peace times."

"Earth is hardly a peaceful place," Van commented, following Max's actions and looking out. Buildings, cars, people. "They chose Earth because of their similarities to us. There was no other variable taken into account. They didn't think it was necessary, given the humans' technology level at the time. And yet these people almost killed you," a shadow passed Van's eyes. A shadow that was mirrored in Max's own eyes. No one knew better than he did what humans were capable of doing to him. Sometimes, in his darkest nightmares, he would still hear Pierce's impassive voice detailing how he was going to take him apart piece by piece.

"At least _that's_ a problem I could take care of," Van said, cold eyes still looking outside.

Max's skin broke in goosebumps. "What… what does that mean?"

"I ordered them killed. Every one of them."


	6. The Fine Print

**Part 6 : The Fine Print  
January 2003 – The Compound**

* * *

**1 : Dave**

"Ray, are you sure you've got them this time?" Dave asked over the phone, anxiously looking at the alien device that was sitting on his desk. The communicator would come alive any moment now, and Van's questions were never easy. Especially when Max was still running for his life somewhere in the Rocky Mountains.

"Positive," Ray answered, confident this time. He'd been tracking the kids for over seven months now, a low blow for his pride if there ever was one. "They've just checked in to a motel. My men are scouting the area as we speak. If everything's fine, we'll get them by midnight tonight. And—_shit_! The Unit is moving in this direction!"

Dave's heart seemed to stop for a second. Three days ago the kids had _barely_ escaped the Unit, and that was news he _did not_ want to give to Van, but would have to anyway. Van always had a way to finding things out, and it would do Dave's plan no good if the rebel leader didn't trust him.

Not to say Van trusted Dave at all. That man didn't trust his own shadow.

"Ray?" he anxiously asked when a full minute had gone by.

"I'm not sure, Dave… I think… I _think_ they are going to start the search tomorrow."

"You have to move now," Dave said, trying to sound calm and composed. If Ray noticed he was not, he didn't say. He had problems of his own.

"We will. I'm gonna make sure the Unit stays way off track while my men take care of the operation. If things go according to plan, you'll have them there before the sun rises tomorrow."

Ray hung up at the exact moment Van's communicator came to life. Dave had thought at some point it would be fun taking the little device apart and putting it back together, but one stern warning from Langley had made his wandering hands wander away.

It wasn't Van's voice that came through. No, this time the voice belonged to Luke, Van's second in command. Where Van was guided by loyalty and a sense of duty, Luke was guided by a practical view of things. Khivar was not the right man for the throne, and Zan had been. Or at least, Zan had been _better_, and that made him the choice Luke wanted.

"Seven months is a long time to have our king missing," Luke's rough voice not so subtly accused.

"We found him, and he should be safely here in about ten hours," Dave said. No greetings, just straight to the point. He couldn't blame them, really. Being in the middle of a civil war always made it a priority be quick and efficient.

"Make sure he is. But Day-ve," Luke paused, Dave's name slightly mispronounced, "Zan's will must be followed. If he does not agree to stay under your protection, you'll arrange for his safety conditions to be met. We will _not_ tolerate our king running for his life any longer."

"I will certainly give him the option to leave once I make sure he's safe and healthy," Dave said, deciding the particulars of his plans were his own business. It was a risky move to withhold information from the Antarians, but damn if Dave trusted some 19-year-old's instincts to hold the future of the entire planet in his hands.

"There is another matter we wish to discuss," Van's voice took Luke's place, younger, vibrant, and with hardly any accent at all. He sounded slightly out of breath. Although Kal had told Dave that the communicators were very capable of holographic imaging, it also made it riskier for their talks to remain private. Van hardly ever called him, and when he did it was always as a package deal: he would call Langley first, and Langley would give Dave the heads up. It was in both men's best interest to be prepared.

"Yes?" Dave cautiously asked. There _never_ was any other matter to discuss but where Zan was, and what was being done to ensure his safety. _Ever._ This change of subject did not bode well to Dave's strategist mind.

"I want those humans dead." The coldness in Van's voice made a perfect match with the bitter winter outside the compound's walls. There were only a handful of humans Van knew about, one of them Dave himself. That Van wanted him dead was not an unexpected feeling, but telling Dave straight out would not seem the best way to go.

"I beg your pardon?" Dave asked, in a perfect imitation of his father's British accent.

"Every single one who hunted him, or is hunting him now. I want their names, and I want them dead."

Dave's eyes looked at the communicator in stunned silence. _Those men were following orders,_ was not going to cut it. The only reason why Van didn't want the entire United States wiped out was because he couldn't afford it. Yet.

"I'm—I'm not sure I can… find them all," Dave said, trying to think fast. That Van wanted some sort of retribution for crimes against his king was understandable. That Dave had to hand over an execution list was not.

"You will," Van stated, no arguments there. "And we will see to their demise. That is our right."

Van wouldn't be able to spare any of his men for some time, so as long as he was out there and not right here, those agents would be safe.

For now.

* * *

**2 : Ray  
January 2003 – The compound  
Six hours later**

"You want me to get their names?" Ray asked, confused. He had barely finished the delivery of six unconscious teens to Jake's capable hands not even two hours before. "We already have their names."

"I know we have the current list of agents. I need every single agent involved when Max was captured by the Unit."

"The mighty Dave couldn't hack into it?" Ray teased, but lost the smile when Dave didn't look amused.

"The records have been deleted. When Agent Pierce disbanded the Unit two years ago, he was very thorough in his work of erasing it from existence. There must be a printed copy somewhere. Archived files. A list on a napkin."

"Most of them must have returned when the Unit re-formed a year ago."

"That's probably true, but not enough. We need to make sure the list is complete."

"It may take a while…" Ray cautioned. Dave nodded somberly. "Is there something else I should know about these kids?" Ray asked at length. There were very few uses Ray could think for a list of this type, and none of them were good.

"Just that they have powerful enemies out there. I just need to make sure I know all of them."

"You always find the weirdest people. With the weirdest problems attached, if I may add," Ray said sincerely. In his years of work with Dave, he'd been asked to do many, many things; it didn't mean he didn't find them strange half of the time, and strang_er_ the other half. Danielle, their French cook, was probably the strangest of them all, up until last night, when he'd kidnapped honest-to-God aliens. Was that technically abduction?

"Jake says I have a knack for it," Dave murmured, his mood not improved in the slightest.

Ray placed a hand on the desk to catch Dave's attention. "Hey. It took us too long, true, but we finally have them. In ten years, these kids are going to look back on this day and think this was the best thing that ever happened to them."

For a moment there, Dave's eyes clouded with shadows of fear. But the next, he finally smiled. "You didn't seem all that happy when I approached you, if I remember correctly," Dave pointed out.

"What can I say? I was young, naïve and you had way too much information about my personal life. Aren't you used to it by now when people go running in the other direction when you appear from the shadows with a box full of surprises?"

"It always seems like a good idea when I'm doing it," Dave said thoughtfully. "I don't know. I guess I always imagined someone picking us up when we were kids, with a box full of surprises and no secret agendas…" Dave said wistfully. Ray stared at him. It was incredibly rare for Jake or Dave to talk about their past, that this was a rare insight into it.

"What would you offer _yourself_? I mean, if you could do it right now, what would you say to your younger self?"

The day Dave had come with his offer, Ray had been a desperate father in need. He'd been dishonorably discharged, but he'd happily gone to the mother of his child. Only to find the child and not the mother. Stranded in a foreign country, without friends, money or contacts, life had become hell.

"Am I rich?" Dave asked, his head slightly cocking to the right.

"No, you're a poor devil in need of something fast. You know—think of me, when you found me."

Imagining Dave as a poor devil was actually hard. Dave and Jake had the same brains, but where Jake was soft, Dave was practical. Where Jake liked things nice and easy, Dave was cunning and resourceful. Dave probably thought Jake's life was boring, while Jake thought Dave's way was too risky. How two people as different as these two had become life-long friends was a total mystery.

"I would ask for a computer with internet access," Dave said, leaning on his leather chair. "I would make a counteroffer, see how far this Dave person would dare to go. I would just start from scratch."

_And build this life back,_ Ray finished. That was what he liked about Dave: he knew exactly where he wanted to be, and how to get there. He smiled at the man's honest answer.

"I'll get you your list," he said, turning around and leaving Dave's office, completely missing the guilt ridden look those words instilled in his boss.

* * *

**3 : Ash  
January, 2004 – New York City**

The strangest aspect of their new home planet was picking a name. Not only were their true names barely pronounceable here, but they lacked ethnicity. It was not the same to be called John Smith, than John Schmidt, or Juan Vasquez or Hareharekrishna. One's skin color, speech and traditions had to match with one's name, because getting it mixed up raised all kinds of alarms and questions, and totally defeated their main purpose of being invisible.

Kal Langley had explained it all the week before when they had just arrived, all tight bundles of energy and excitement and wonderment. Now, seven days later, things were starting to get less star-struck and more practical.

They were so eager to get outside and guard their king, that their headquarters felt more like a cage than their new command center. Yet a routine had to be established, rules to be approved and followed. Adjusting to this new life, on this new planet, living among 7 billion aliens, could be scary some times, but none of them were backing down from their duties as Guards. None of them ever would.

And their duty this morning was picking a name.

Hundreds of pictures were scattered over the dark blue rug, each one with a brief info that made little sense out of context. Being a female or male, young or old, white or black, was dependent on their mission, but they had to choose a base human form, one to fall back on in moments where they had a quiet time to themselves or when things were so hectic or dangerous that choosing that form would be an automatic reflex.

Shifters were neither "girl" or "boy". Or rather, they could be both. Because men had more appeal as soldiers when it came to perception, shifters were, as a general rule, all male in form, but their minds could be either gender, some days feeling more female than male. There were few that were locked on a specific gender, like Luke, and they had no problem with sticking to it. Most of them, though, picked two forms, because one never knew what the day would bring.

Antarians had no gender issues. They had genetic ones, but this world was barely contemplating getting out of the former to know what was awaiting them with the latter.

He wanted a small form. He was more of the mind that innocent looking creatures were the best disguise, the one his enemies would approach without their defenses on high. The main problem on Earth, though, was that no human could know they were here, and that ruled out shifting in public. If he chose a form that was not practical in as many scenarios as possible, it would be a disadvantage to himself and a disservice to his king.

"So, not too young," he murmured, practicing his English out loud.

The one grateful thing about his first mission was that all his targets where in the same country. And the great thing about the United States of America was that any ethnicity was allowed. He could be black, white, yellow and all the shades in between, with hardly anyone batting an eye.

"Not too big," he said, placing face down the images that he was rapidly discarding. His eyes kept changing color as he subconsciously matched the ones in the photos. Blue, brown, green, his irises adjusting without a second thought.

Within two minutes, he was staring at 21 candidates to be his next face.

Van said he could not tell a human and an Antarian apart, and all shifters smiled at that. The differences were so obvious to them, it was painful, but to the untrained eye—one that didn't have to disguise itself every day as someone else—he guessed he could see why.

As he stared at the face of a mid-twenties male, Ash was unable to _not_ see them: humans' faces were more rounded, where Antarians' were sharper, longer. Noses were slightly too small in humans, along with the size of the irises and eyelashes. Their bones were heavier, and their muscles not as flexible. Human hair grew at an alarming rate, and they lacked the skin patterns on their backs that Antarians had.

When Zan came back, his alien-ness would be easy to hide, but it wouldn't pass a close inspection. Everyone knew in Antar that Zan had been genetically modified to survive on Earth, but most didn't know that, physically, Zan was about 90% human. Yet ironically, that was what gave Ash the certainty that Zan's reign would be the best thing that could happen to shifters: their very own king would be as much a product of genetic manipulation as they were. It was almost as good as having a shifter on the throne.

Khivar was using that rhetoric to induce fear in the population. Claiming that bringing someone from the dead was not just a crime against nature, but against their very own selves. _Immortality,_ Khivar had said the last time Ash had heard him address his subjects, _is the worst form of selfishness. Those who are gone have made room for those who will come, the new ideas, the new blood that has to replace the old. To live again is to take away the rightful place of those who had not yet lived. _

"Well, here's a little replacement for you, Mr. Usurper. We are going to replace _you_ with the newer version of Zan."

"Talking to yourself out loud is never a good sign, you know?" Violet said, the only one of the Invisible Guard who preferred a female gender at all times. She'd picked Asian for her form, long, straight black hair cascading at her back, an impressive feat. Hair was difficult to maintain consistently between shifts, for one, _and_ long hair was reserved for royalty. _Yet another difference_ _between our worlds._

"Just trying this language out while picking a form. You picked yours rather fast," Ash said with approval, wondering if having long hair would be a big deal.

"I asked Kal what kind of woman looked both smart and athletic, and out of his suggestions…" she trailed off, striking a pose to show her form. "The eyes take a little getting used to, though," she said, blinking a couple of times, her thin eyebrows arching, giving her a comical look.

"All the differences are annoying," Ash said, picking five photos. "I still haven't decided myself. God, but the human body has way too many muscles!" he added, studying the body of a chocolate-skin man. Antarian bodies would never bulk the way this guy's had. It was physically impossible to augment their muscle mass that much. Shifters, on the other hand, would have no problem, but keeping that form would take practice. A lot of it.

"Maybe you should do it backwards, like Jade and I did," she suggested, getting a closer look from her place behind him. "Pick up the name and then go see what looks like it. Or use a form from your own name, something Earth-sounding."

He looked at her with a skeptic face. "There are so many variables, really…" he murmured, breaking his own name in bits, trying to see if something stuck. _Ash doesn't sound half bad,_ except that it didn't match the faces that were looking back at him from his printed copies.

Violet sat down beside him, taking the five photos out of his hands. She promptly discarded three, and left two. One man, one woman.

"He's rather tall," he said, slightly narrowing his eyes while he contemplated the pros and cons about this form. Yellow hair reached to this man's shoulders, crystal blue eyes looking a little dazed. He was from some place called Australia, and the information card warned that there was a different speech pattern to learn.

"Then just be a girl," she said, shrugging.

He took her form, appreciating the slim figure. She laughed out loud. Taking the same form was usually considered taboo among shifters, except when they were picking forms.

"You're right, the eyes feel odd," he commented, playing with a few different adjustments until he fell back to his Antarian form. "I don't think I can decide today," he said with a frustrated sigh. He started to pick the photographs that were turned down, piling them into a stack, and Violet started to help. Soon, she picked one that he had set aside: Zan's photo.

She changed into Zan, her eyes glued to his image. For one second, it felt as if she were truly Zan, and Ash was Guarding him, all this training left behind, his mission over, finally fulfilling his destiny.

"You think he'd… talk to us?" she whispered, losing Zan's form and taking her own. It was against the law to impersonate the king except on duty.

"Zan was the most vocal proponent in equal liberties for us, even letting us out of the military life if we chose to. You've seen the archives. He saw us as people. He never feared us."

"He had a Seal to protect him," she said, fearful eyes turning to look at Ash, knowing her words could be interpreted as treason.

He placed a hand on her forearm, looking her straight in the eye. "Van wouldn't have chosen wrong. And _he_ talks to us, all the time… at all times," he added, eliciting a smile from her. Being a rebel did not keep office hours. "But I think… I think we'll Guard him from the shadows long enough to get to know him, you know? By the time he comes home, we can decide to stay here. Earth is far enough, and diverse enough, for us to get lost in."

"Like Kal thought he was doing?" she pointed out in a somewhat troubled manner, her eyes going back to the photos, her hands sorting them out in stacks.

"I guess… I thought you liked Kal," he said as an afterthought. Kal was the only shifter who'd served Zan long before Zan had taken the throne. And the only surviving shifter from the original mission.

"I do, I do… It's just… Why did he wait so long? If Van hadn't made contact, Kal wouldn't have bothered, that much is clear. Don't you see? Kal doesn't think Zan is there, or is ready, or whatever. Kal is willing to forget about Antar's life and soul, letting our former leader grow old on an alien world, in an alien body… What if we change our minds, too? What if we betray Van by not believing in his dream?" she barely whispered, her eyes still looking at the now empty rug, her hands in fists.

"Hey," he said, getting her attention back. "We'll learn, we'll watch, we'll Guard. By the time this is over, we'll make a decision. If we stand by Zan, or if we stand by ourselves. We're not fighting to remain slaves. We're not even fighting for Van, when it comes down to it. If this Zan is not the man we want, nothing, and I mean _nothing_ can hold us down to this war."

He would be haunted by those words for the next seven years.


	7. Out of Reach

**Chapter 7  
Out of Reach**

**November 2nd – New York City  
**

* * *

**1 : Dave**

There were few places where thinking about one's life was unavoidable: at funerals, of which he had never really attended any that mattered. At near-death experiences, and for someone who had been on the run since he was 12, those were remarkably few and far between. And in prison.

_And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where I am right now. _Though truth be told, he had no inclination to review his entire life. Just a few things here and there, and to harbor some unhealthy anxiety about the upcoming 24 hours.

He was still at the cell where McKay had left him 29 minutes and 3 seconds ago, the inhaler still in his left hand, while his right hand slowly drummed on the metal table in front of him. He was absently playing an imaginary piano, the music sounding at the back of his thoughts. It had been a long time since he'd done that. The lack of puzzles—or napkins to _turn_ into puzzles—was a slow torture to his mind.

_Van is a smart guy, _Dave thought, _he must have realized by now that there's a good reason why the Network is down._

He'd been telling himself that an awful lot in the past few hours. He _had _to believe that. Otherwise, he'd brought down half of his life's work for nothing.

_I refuse to believe Van would let McKay put his claws on any of them, _he thought grimly, his internal piano playing a sinister composition.

The not knowing was killing him. Funny that, since it was usually knowing _too much_ that got him into trouble.

Objectively, Van was _bound_ to keep Max safe. It had been certified back in 2000 that Max did possess the Royal Seal, for one; and secondly, Van was not going to let go of the idea that his brother Zan was still alive, at least not for some time—enough time to get Max out of McKay's range, hopefully.

Objectively, too, Dave knew that Van's resources were limited. Yes, the Rebels were gaining terrain, but Khivar was getting bolder, harsher, and too impulsive. In the short term, it meant Van needed to keep his forces in Antar. He couldn't blame him. Khivar was a dictator struggling to keep his power, going from a tight grip to a desperate position. That made him dangerous.

Right before his own capture, Dave had contacted Van. The leader of the Rebellion had been sure something big was going to happen soon, so plans had been hastily made for a meeting between the three parties: Van, Dave, and Max.

That was one meeting Dave was not looking forward to. It was impossible to fathom what Max's reaction would be in that moment when he was going to be reintroduced to his former life; when all Dave's work would come to an end; when Max would know the real reason behind the deal and Dave's interest, and how many people had conspired to get him to that exact point. Afterwards, Max's decisions would be his own, but Dave doubted Max would be happy about the entire situation, to say the least.

His piano song turned menacing. There were other darker corners to explore. Especially concerning _how_ had Dave ended up here,in custody to begin with. True, he'd been blinded to the world with his upcoming meeting with Max and then Van, but he hadn't been careless enough to lead McKay straight to him, and by extension, to _them_. Worse, he was sure McKay had not been bluffing when he said he had gotten Max's location.

_Something's rotten in Denmark,_ he thought, his piano song cutting abruptly at the back of his mind with a dissonant note. Who had access to this real time information?

There was Jake, of course, who lacked the technical skill. He was angry with Dave, _so_ angry, but he would never do anything to jeopardize the kids' safety. _If_ Jake wanted some sort of retribution, he would do it some other way, and one that would impact only Dave. _But Jake is out of the question,_ he thought with a small smile. The last time he had seen his best friend in the world had been over a week ago, and it had not ended well. If that was going to be the last time he saw him…

_Tell me you understand, Jake. Tell me you understand why I did it, why I _had_ to do it. If I had told you, Van would have taken Max from my hands, and Luke would have loved to have the tiniest __reason to execute us both for treason to the Crown. _

The next logical step was Ray. But nothing in Ray's behavior could explain this. Ray was not a greedy man, and Dave paid him well, so there was not a financial motive. But Ray did have vulnerabilities that could be exploited. _And Ray does have the technical skill to track all of us down and…_

Dave sighed, deep and calming. He didn't have the luxury to second-guess his friends, because they were the most likely to get him out. Whoever had gotten this information, however unlikely, he was _good._

_So, maybe the aliens, then._

They certainly had the technical skill. Dave had made sure they had a way to use the Network to track the hybrids, because denying Van access to Zan was as good as signing his own death warrant. A traitor in Van's ranks was as unlikely as a traitor in Dave's ranks, but _someone_ had to have given directions to McKay.

The interesting question was why Dave. Why had he been taken prisoner first? With McKay the head of the Unit, his priority would have been Max and the others, and Dave would have been just the cherry on top.

_Maybe someone wanted me out of the game first… cause suspicio__ns in Van? Rush everything into a mess? Can Khivar reach this far into the game?_

His piano song resumed, his right fingers going faster on a half coherent piece. His list of suspects was not long, and all of them improbable. The thing was, whatever this traitor's intentions were, whoever he was, he had no idea what kind of mess he was getting himself into. Van was not the forgiving type, and even less so when the target was his brother.

* * *

**2 : Luke **

There was something surreal about driving a car on an alien planet with one's reincarnated idol sitting not even ten inches away.

This was the first time Luke had ever been this close to Rath—to any of them, really—and had he been able to sweat, it would be pouring off him right now. _Thank God for small favors,_ he said with an inner chuckle. Jade was the one who loved idioms and euphemisms and all sorts of word play. Luke, on the other hand, didn't like to spend so much time away from Van, and by extension Antar. His place was not here, yet his heart still cherished a boy's idealism, and sitting right here, driving for _the_ General, was something like a dream come true. _If having him pissed off at me and being in the middle of this goddamn chaos can be called a dream come true, that is…_

Luke's mind was an unusual scattered disarray of thoughts. His only options to rectify that were small talk with Rath, or opening the door and abandoning the car. Neither would work, so he'd gone for silence, and spoken when spoken to. It felt like being back under Khivar's control, where all shifters were required to military duty, and their blind obedience was expected, including when to speak. Shifters never talked first, ever.

_Not until Van came along,_ Luke thought, easing his grip on the wheel. Traffic was murderous for some reason or another. It was not even 5pm, but Luke couldn't remember if that was rush hour in New York or in some other city. For all their talk about Earth being a small planet, it was maddeningly diverse and chaotic enough for Luke to lose track of the details. Khivar might be an absolute tyrant, but he was an _organized _tyrant_._And Antar had been organized long before Khivar's time, too. That was what bothered Luke the most about coming to this planet: the _not_ knowing where he stood.

_But freedom is not organized,_a younger Van had said once with a smile, one of those rare moments when he lowered his guard and let himself just be free of the burden of being the leader, of being in constant danger. _You'll be able to choose, go places, be someone different every day if that's what you desire. _

_But Van,_ he'd said with fear, _I already _am_ a different someone every day._

"He's moving," Rath said, bringing Luke back to the present.

"Where?" he asked, his eyes on the rear view mirror. They would have to switch cars soon, or at the very least change the plates. The red light two cars in front glared at him. They were not moving anywhere for a while.

"Keep going forward, he's not moving very fast."

"That might be good," Luke said, turning to look at Rath, who almost threw daggers at him. "If he's not running, it could mean they're not under attack," he explained, feeling the weirdness of the situation. Here he was, the second in command to a rebellion's leader, giving tactical points to the second in command of an entire planet's leader.

"He might be hiding," Rath answered in a steely tone. "Max is not right. I'm not sure _what_ exactly is wrong with him, but if he's feeling sick, he might just be waiting. And if something happens to him, I'm holding _you_ responsible."

"If something happens to him, then all is lost," Luke said quietly. He'd always wondered if Rath and Zan would use their real names in private, if they would take off the pretense of their human lives. But that had never been reported back from their Guards. They seldom talked about Antar, and their worries were about their current lives. _But that would make sense,_ Van would say every other week, _they have no future here until we give them one._

"I don't get it. Why now? Why the _Empire State Building_?"

A kaleidoscope of arguments and decisions regarding meeting Zan ran through Luke's mind from the past forty-eight hours. It seemed surreal that after years of planning, the most important day was going so horribly wrong.

"Khivar is trying to kill Zan... Probably in the next twelve hours," he finally said. "Van wanted to meet Zan to personally warn him… After all, he's his brother."

Luke didn't dare to gaze at Rath. Instead, his eyes fixed ahead. A girl in a pink dress in the front car waved at him with not a care in the world. He envied her.

By the corner of his eye, he saw that Rath had stopped staring uneasily outside at these words. He seemed to have stopped breathing as well. Very slowly, he turned to look at Luke.

"Zan doesn't have any brothers."

"Zan _didn't_ have any brothers," he corrected him, feeling defensive all of a sudden.

"Is that so?" Rath asked in a dangerous low voice.

"When the Queen and the rebellion thought that you four had been lost for good, they decided to create Van. He's Zan's mother biological son. Being half-brothers gives him enough power to lead the Rebellion, and ultimately, a claim to the throne. It's legitimate enough to overpower Khivar."

"Then he _doesn't_ need Max," Rath said, going back and forth with Zan's names. "Is he here to wipe out the competition?"

The air between them charged, and Luke's heart skipped a beat.

"No! Of course not! Van's been trained—_raised_ to fight for Zan. He's the sole reason Van keeps leading, why we've come so far. Why we shifters are in the middle of this war to begin with." Rath didn't seem convinced. Luke was ready to bolt. His whole body trembled slightly as he was readying himself to shape into the car's door or melt into the black leather seat.

"If you want me to believe you, you're not shifting anywhere."

Luke froze.

"What happens if Van decides Zan is not who he thought?"

Swallowing, Luke felt invisible fingers lightly closed on his throat. The light ahead turned green, and a second later, the car behind them honked viciously.

"Drive," Rath said with a deadly calm. Luke did.

"Why does Van need Zan?"

"Everyone expects Zan to return. And it's not so much that Van _needs _Zan, but that Van _wants _Zan to come back. To lead. You know how it was under Zan. You, of all people, should see why Van wants Zan back."

Rath's rigid stare softened at that. Luke had touched on something important enough that he could breathe a tiny little bit easier. Memories of a past that had been worth fighting for.

"Turn right," Rath said, his eyes looking at the streets in front of him. Luke crossed, finding yet another red light. He was starting to hate those. "What kind of man is Van?" Rath asked, narrowing his eyes at him.

"The kind I would die for," Luke answered without missing a beat. "Van… he's strong, all the way to the core. He's known nothing but civil war all his life, but all you'll ever hear him talking about is the future. He wants peace as much as he wants air to breathe." He chuckled at his own words. He'd spent too much time around Van not to get carried away. "War is not the right place to raise an idealist, if you know what I mean. I don't think he likes half the things he's done to keep Khivar at bay and give us the upper hand."

Rath opened his mouth to say something and then closed it. He seemed frustrated with something. "Are you _sure_ you can protect Max from Khivar's plan?" he asked, his hands balled into fists.

Luke nodded. "We are. And once this is all over… maybe Zan will want to come home."

"You'll take us back?" There was no eagerness in Rath's question. Rather weariness. It was somehow disappointing to see how this alien body and this alien planet had staked a claim to such a great Antarian.

Luke took a deep breath, the car advancing at a snail pace.

"Not all of you… We know, General. We know what Vilandra did. Khivar made a very public declaration a few years ago, even attempted to come to Earth for her himself to prove it. He tried to discredit Zan's memories and actions by proving not even his own sister trusted him."

"She was tricked," Rath dismissed the notion, his eyes searching outside once more. "Max keeps moving. Where would Van take him?"

_Didn't you hear what I__ just said?_

"There's only one logical place: Headquarters. They are at the outskirts of the city."

"They are not moving that fast. Keep going in this direction until I tell you to turn cross again."

The _Empire State Building_ loomed tall at the distance, some ten blocks away.

"And Luke, if you say anything negative about my sister, I'll kill you."

Ten _long_ blocks away.

* * *

**3**** : Max**

"You could have showed mercy!" Max argued, barely able to get the words out in a civil manner. _All of them? _he thought, knowing full well Van had had enough time to make sure every single agent in the Unit had died. How many had there been? Twelve? Twenty?

"I did," Van said, dark eyes locking with hazel ones. "I spared everyone else currently in this Unit, didn't I?"

_For how long?_

Being in the face of someone who would—and already _had_—killed for him was a sobering experience. Zan knew the necessity of executions, and Max knew that in any other light, an attack of a foreign officer could be viewed as an act of war. Rationally, he wanted to argue that those men were just following orders, that he was perceived as a threat. But if he wanted to be honest, he knew how much Pierce had enjoyed it, and part of him was just plain _relieved_ those men were gone—those men who had sealed their destiny the moment they had decided to hunt him, and who would have killed him, his wife, his friends, without a second thought.

"You can't… you can't just kill people on my behalf," Max said, feeling empty inside. It was unsettling, chillingly so, to know he had to watch his every word, every move, every single glance, because Van could decide someone else had to die.

Another dizzy spell hit him, making the fog around his connection thicker. It passed as fast as it came.

"I executed them in accordance with our laws, Zan. You're not just some poor devil who got tangled with the wrong people. You're the king of an entire planet, leader of an interplanetary alliance. You have more titles to your name than those men could even imagine. You do _not_ leave unpunished the crimes committed against your leaders. What happens to you, happens to Antar."

"You will _not_ kill any more humans. Don't you see? It becomes us versus them, and when does it end? I am hiding here, I did not come with open arms seeking allies. We cannot expect them not to feel threatened when there has been no trust between us from the start."

Van regarded him for a tense moment. Finally, he nodded once.

"Unless you're in danger, I will refrain from executing anybody without your knowledge," Van said in a somber tone. Then he sighed. "Forgive me, brother. I'm sorry—all I've ever known is war, but it brightens my soul to see you so passionate about this. I want that. I want what you see in things. I want those views for Antar."

_I just want to see my wife, know my friends are safe, and go back to worry__ing __about how to slip Dave's watchful eyes. _

_Dave._ Now there was a topic he very much wanted to hear about.

"How did you—"

Beside Van, a form took shape in the space of two seconds. For one moment, Max almost projected his shield. The fact that the man that had suddenly materialized was himself, gave him pause.

"We are being followed."

* * *

**4 : Jade**

Walking was a bad idea. In fact, standing was bad enough, without adding movement. He stopped walking, and leaned against the first suitable wall. Since he was still holding Liz's hand, she had no option but to stop as well. He might be a drugged shifter right at the moment, but he was not going to lose sight of her. Even if it was a _blurry_ sight of her.

"Jade, what are you doing? Max is in that direction."

"I'm not… I'm not still enough," he answered. She frowned at his chosen words. "Stable?" he tried to correct. _Maybe it was sober?_

"You—you mean you can't walk?"

"I'd rather not. It wasn't that bad when we were on the train, it is now."

He closed his eyes, easier that way to remain standing—or rather _leaning—_on the wall. The floor was looking quite inviting otherwise.

"Okay, okay," she said, getting closer to him. "We need to warn Max that the Unit is coming. You can stay here while I—"

"No," he said, opening his eyes. She wasn't happy, that much was evident. "If I let you go, you'll be unprotected. Van would kill me before the sun rises tomorrow."

"I think he would find it in his heart to forgive you if I warn Max on time."

"He already…" _knows,_ he was going to say, but he had no idea if that was true. Van was waiting for Khivar, an Antarian threat. Not humans. The Special Unit had been a non-issue for so long, it was hard to add them to the equation.

"He already what? Jade?"

"What will the Unit do?" he asked. Liz blinked.

"They hunt us down. They almost killed Max."

"We killed them back," he answered with pride, his memory getting slightly clearer, his thought more coherent now that he had stopped moving.

"You what?" she asked, her eyes going round.

"When we first came to Earth. That was our primary objective. Bring justice for crimes committed against Zan. We are soldiers, Liz. And we are very good at what we do."

"You—you're not joking."

"No."

"Michael knew… oh God, Michael told us that he had tracked down the agents and half of them were dead. We thought Dave had something to do with it."

"Rath is good at tracking down threats," he said sincerely. "You're good at keeping Zan grounded," he added as an afterthought.

Liz slightly smiled at that, turning to see the subway exit some 30 feet away. "Max is overly grounded, with or without me," she murmured. "Look, I know this is important to you, but Max—_Zan _is bigger than the two of us, right?"

He nodded, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"And Zan, he's really going to forgive you if I gave you an order to stay and you followed it."

Jade stopped nodding. He took orders from _Van,_ and up until this point, there had never been an issue of the chain of command. It was either Van giving the orders, or Luke. There was no one else, no conflict of interest, no delays or misunderstandings.

Liz's eyes glazed for a second as if she'd heard something that was beyond his hearing. She got close to him, and tiptoeing, she said very quietly and very clearly. "Jade, either you let me go, or I'll drag you to him."

She wasn't kidding.

A couple of minutes later, they were heading for the exit.

* * *

**5 : Kyle**

_I'm gonna miss it! I'm gonna miss it!_

_Can't believe I'm in the biggest city in the world!_

_God, I'm so late. He's going to be furious._

_I love you. I love you so much._

Of all the powers that he could gain, did it really have to be _mind reading?_ Like, seriously?

No molecular structure changing, dreamwalking, green shields or anything cool—_and _silent_._ Granted, most of the time his life was just as normal as the next guy's—minus Dave, Jake and Ray and all that meant—but when he was stressed out like today… It was as if everyone wanted to personally inform him in the loudest way possible what they thought about anything and everything.

He wanted to scream.

_We shouldn't have taken the subway. Too many people, too many thoughts._

It had not been too long ago that he'd come clean to Jake about this. He didn't want to lose it, exactly, but he didn't know how to learn to control it either. He had not practiced enough to learn how to hear his own thoughts instead of others, or how to distract his mind from zeroing into everyone else's business.

At least he only got loud snatches of the people around him. When he was around the alien trio, it was unnerving how clear their thoughts were. Not really different from his own, exactly, but if he wanted to focus, he could actually have a conversation with any of them without them having to open their mouths. It was creepy beyond hell, and he'd only done it a couple of times with Max and Isabel. Michael had never said he wasn't willing to take a friendly silent chat with him, but it wasn't something Kyle could envision either. Michael was too private for that.

Now he wished he'd told Jake five years ago.

It seemed that every time his telepathy kicked in, it got a wider range. He was pretty sure the thought about killing for a burger was coming from the other side of the car, where a kid was watching a fat guy devouring his Big Mac.

He was already getting a headache, and people thinking in other languages was making it worse. They still had some good twenty minutes to ride before reaching their second car, and Kyle just didn't know if he was going to be able to handle it.

_Screw Jake's plan, I'm getting out of here!_

The subway stopped, the doors hissing open. Kyle was out before he could change his mind, Maria yelling at him to stop.

"What are you _doing?!_" she asked, getting a grip on his elbow.

"I'm sorry, I just…"

_We gotta get going, we gotta find Michael._

_I'm so hungry._

_Man, that girl is hot!_

_So, if we take a taxi we wouldn't get lost. _

"It's too loud!" he all but yelled, resisting the urge to cover his ears with his hands. It wouldn't do any good.

Her eyes went round at that, and she immediately let him go, her hand rising to her mouth. "Kyle, I'm… I'm sorry, but we gotta keep going."

He looked at her, for a glorious second the world going quiet as he focused all his attention on her and on how to explain her he could _not_ keep going, that their plan had to change no matter what Ray or Jake or anyone for that matter, thought.

And then, one crystal voice broke through his thin defenses: _I'm coming for you, Max. _

"Liz…" he whispered, turning 180 degrees to his left, the sounds of a thousand people thinking crashing in his mind for a moment and then being forgotten again.

"What?" Maria asked, frowning, following his gaze.

"I heard Liz just now," he answered, his eyes searching the crowd in the general direction where the thought had come from. And _there!_ He barely caught the sight of Max disappearing through the exit stairs.

_But why would I hear Liz and not Max? _he absently wondered as he started to run, confident Maria would keep up.

"Where?"

"The exit. I just saw Max."

"I thought he was at the _Empire State Building,_" she said, picking up speed, fluidly moving through the crowd, leading the way towards their elusive friends.

"I guess we _are_ close to the _Empire State,_" Kyle said, barely glancing at the name of the metro station they were trying to exit. Now that he had a short term objective and was moving, the voices in his head receded to barely static. Once he was out of there, he was confident his mind would be his alone.

By the time he saw the sky again, shots were being fired.


End file.
